Of Cigarettes and Grape Vines
by Samaaskylar
Summary: Class skipping was this thing cool kids did from time to time, but it became a sort of ritual when a certain redhead invaded his personal space. Or was it him? Naruto doesn't remember anymore, especially when Whirlpool entangled their lives in more ways than both of them could have ever imagined. AU. BL.
1. Redheaded Cigarette

**_Of Cigarettes and Grape Vines_**

_~chapter_ _one_~

**Redheaded Cigarette**

_Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto. _

_This fic is dedicated to the lovely Venovi-branches on Tumblr. Happy belated birthday. _

* * *

The clock was ticking, exceptionally fast, on a race with his heart beats.

That was one minute ago, however; now his pulse crossed the finish line and was on a run for the Nile.

When was it going to reach 12, he wondered. The number seemed to run on miles every time the pointer closed on it.

Allowing himself a glance at the occupant of a desk at one corner, seemingly so far away from him, he sighed internally. Sasuke wasn't acknowledging his stare instead continued his hobby of window-gloating, which was just great for him.

Few days ago, he began suspecting Sasuke suspected him and Naruto, better than anyone else, knew his friend had eyes _everywhere_. Including one on Naruto's very back. Creepier than anything, he started receiving these odd looks from him and he knew, just _knew,_ Sasuke was well aware of his most recent 'activity'.

But Sasuke is a sadistic bastard, so confronting him immediately was not on his list of priorities.

Every time Naruto thought about it, it seemed as if he was committing something so scandalous and disgraceful that the need to hide it from everyone became somehow necessary.

Every little look from his teachers manifested itself as a disapproving figure that floated at the corner of his mind, always crossed and grumpy.

All handshakes with his guy friends made him extremely nervous; and even patting on the shoulder freaked him out of his skin.

What scared him, however, was that he no longer did all these things. Pouncing out of the class, battling legions of bears and hippos to get the girls their snacks from the buffet, on his own tab no less, had been forgotten. And the questions it estimated, either from others or himself made the fact no easier for him, and that all his former activities became second best to nothing but a cigarette or two smoked in the school's shitty background with a person, _another guy_, a stranger, whom he knew next to nothing about.

Naruto, was to say the least, horrified.

It all started three weeks ago, and with all the disastrous consequences nobody but him seemed to sense, he did not want to stop; wished he'd regret, but didn't.

A really nice day, it was. Sunny, but breezy. A perfect day for sneaking out of history class. Naruto thought nothing could go wrong, because the whole world seemingly smiled at him and played it cool.

And since then, he wasn't fooled whenever it played cool. A really good day was so unreal to end on a good note.

As usual, Naruto skipped around, head darting on every direction until he found a spot where one of his school's massive walls provided a thin, translucent blanket of shade, covering the yellowing grass and junk left on this oft-abandoned area.

Watched; it was the first thing he sensed when thumbing his back against the cool wall and uttering a sigh of relief for arriving here without being caught.

Glancing down, he met with green eyes observing him uncertainly.

Naruto sneezed. The other person sneezed.

Naruto sniffed. The other person sniffed as well.

He stepped back, holding out his palms.

The other person, apparently another guy, was crouching down, his white shirt skewed and wrinkly, untucked and unbuttoned.

Naruto blinked. The other guy blinked too.

In an attempt to calm his thumbing heart, he took a deep breath and released it in huffs. After a long moment of silence, he gave the other guy a sideways glance.

"I'm afraid this is my personal spot."

The other guy looked around. "I don't see your name anywhere."

Naruto huffed, taking a pebble from ground and scribbling his name on the stony floor for the other to see.

"I thought someone who reads poetry would be more... mature."

"I don't read poetry!" he defended indignantly.

"I may have believed that if I hadn't seen you in the library."

Naruto was a little taken aback. "... You saw me at the library?"

Regarding him with a blank expression, the other retorted. "Just because none of your illiterate groupies know the way to the library everybody else doesn't."

"Hey! They're my friends."

"Do they know about this little interest of yours, then?"

At his confused stare, the guy finished with a torrid slap. "I figured so."

Naruto did not understand much at that moment; as every time he came up with a reply, the other guy would come up with another one, and that's how their very first verbal quarrel broke. What boggled him the most is that he _liked_ it.

After he pulled out a cigarette, the other guy ridiculed him for smoking something as _local_ and cheap as Seven Stars.

"Nana much?" the other guy uttered with a smirk, drawing a cigarette from the pack Naruto had offered him.

He was surprised, and a little embarrassed. Always hearing guys jeering about Shoujo, Naruto couldn't help but enjoy few names in the industry.

"Don't judge me man, I like it."

"I wasn't. I like it as well."

Naruto chuckled. "Did you guess I watch it because of my choice of cigarettes?"

The other guy shook his head. "Winter Sleep warbled out of your earphones. Smoking Seven Stars just confirmed it."

Rubbing his neck, Naruto smiled sheepishly and the other guy simply shrugged.

They talked, a lot; one line from him, one line from the other, and Naruto wanted to repeat that conversation over and over again. The two discussed movies they've watched, books they've read, lyrics and music of songs they've heard and even folklore; plus how much the educational system was full of bullshit.

The other guy had said: "Schools only exist to create of us, the raw minded, unquestionably obedient robots. They inflict out-dated information in your brain, only testing your memory, and not how you truly interpret this knowledge you're forced to assimilate. This is why when you finish school, and go out to the real world, you begin to think you're insane and an outright hinder on society; you seem to be the only one understanding how wrong everything is. Failing to comprehend anything, only because for eleven years, you've been living inside a spacious cell, fooled to believe you're actually free, while in fact, you're no more than a member of the heard, easy to sacrifice for what they call the Greater Good."

He was impressed, and admittedly caught off guard with how much the other guy could voice _his _feelings that Naruto himself wasn't eloquent enough to word.

And then they left, each their way with no goodbyes and no promise to meet again. And only when back in class did Naruto realize that he didn't even get to know the other guy's name.

* * *

Next day, with a childish, excited ting in his heart, Naruto got out before math teacher arrived in class and raced to the school's backgrounds, where much to his disappointment, no sign clued him to the other guy's presence.

By that time, Naruto had thought the other guy ended up finding him on a not-so-amusing level and decided that the 'basketball star and friend of all the ladies' wasn't worth his time. Or perhaps he's just late; Naruto waited, and the guy didn't show up.

He wasn't supposed to feel this dejected. This wasn't meant to be anything but a fluke; that once-in-a-life-time event that touches something so profound in you, beyond your reach, and just alters it in ways you can't comprehend; like how the leaves change in autumn. But those had a scientific reason behind them and Naruto was just trying to be poetic.

Maybe, just maybe, the other guy had a scientific reason not to be here.

He knew there was no promise, not even a word thrown his way. But alas, he concealed, like many other times, the hurt expression he was wearing and tied the mask back to his face. It was just another thing on the list to get over.

That, however, proved to be hard when the first thing he saw upon reentering the main hall was the smart-ass stranger conversing with two teachers, consequently handing one of them, rather discreetly, a small bag.

Naruto was intrigued, but decided that he didn't care anymore and that it was none of his business, battling the bottomless well of curiosity inside him out of rotten pride. But when the two teachers left the scene, and his barely hidden presence got noticed, their eyes met, and the other guy didn't have the courtesy to wave, nod, or even blink, but only to give his back and ascend the stairs, causing Naruto's heart to heave and falter despite how wrong it felt to _feel_ this way.

Apparently, there was no scientific reason; he was just disliked.

* * *

Two days passed, and he ceased the habit of skipping classes, for he no longer felt any sort of gratification stemming from it. That however, didn't mean he and the other guy didn't cross paths frequently in the hallways or at the buffet. He, on his part, refrained from even acknowledging that delightful individual.

That, until the same individual approached him; in the most unorthodox way possible.

By the time it happened, he was washing his hands at the bathroom's sink, fully relishing in the sensation cool water brought on his skin. Finishing, Naruto dried his hands in the ever so efficient towel; his shirt.

And then glanced at the mirror.

He almost shrieked in terror, but held his breath upon taking notice of the familiar milky green eyes and the blank face watching him intensely.

Their gazes didn't just hold, they tangled, and Naruto's heart began warming up for the race.

"I've been searching for you." The other guy had said.

He turned around sharply, resting his hands on the sink's edge as to not give away for his crumbling legs. "Huh! Like you haven't seen me, hypocrite. I was right there!"

The guy's expression didn't change. "It wasn't a good time to talk."

Naruto narrowed his eyes. "What were you doing there anyway, with two teachers no less?"

The other's eyes surveyed the room before shaking his head, sensing another presence with them. "Let us go outside. The break's going to end soon."

Preparing to leave, Naruto had stopped him. "Wait-"

The guy sighed wearily, and only then Naruto had noticed how tired he looked, with black bags under his eyes and a sickly pale face.

"Hey… are you alright?" Naruto couldn't help but ask.

The answer came fast and definitive. "Let us just go outside."

Fearing the chance of being caught together trying to write off their existence from classes, the two separated and took different paths until eventually meeting in the junky background.

"Sooo…" Naruto started. When seeing the guy's haggard face, he asked again. "Really man, are you alright? I mean, you seem really sick. Do you need medicine—"

"What is it I'm seeing, the mother-hen side of you?"

"Bastard I'm just trying to help."

"It's just lack of sleep. Rest."

Sharing cigarettes, the two went back to their old way of conversing, two days hostility wholly forgotten. Naruto, little hesitant, had questioned him about the bag and the deal with teachers from the previous day, and was surprised, if not a little skeptical at the answer.

"Hashish."

It was unfiltered and said with total nonchalance.

"Eh." He could hear himself squeaking.

"Hash. Drugs. Medicine. Tobacco. Whatever you like to name it."

Naruto swallowed. "So… are you a part of an organization that sells kids and idiotic adults drugs and deals with hidden agendas seeking to take control over the country?"

"We also recruit idiots like you and brainwash them." The guy continued impassively.

"Well, fuck."

The two chuckled, pushing each other's shoulders lightly.

From what Naruto managed to conclude, the other guy's father is a tobacco merchant who dealt with men of stature and wealth. Aside from that, he also had his own brand of cigar and is a friendly trader of hash.

Naruto thought all this was immensely interesting.

The other guy's father, on the other hand, wasn't; according to the other guy's account of him.

But it wasn't like _he_ was hanging out with Naruto instead of his son, which was good for him. Both of them, actually.

* * *

That break was good, Naruto still remembers. So good that he, sprawled on the cool sheets of his bed, questioned his sanity and choices.

What was he doing? Was he running away from a cruel, judgmental society? Was he trying to discover a reality which another person had oh so easily created for him? Was he trying to find something, or someone…?

_Gaara…_

Naruto entertained himself with saying the name repeatedly. Tasting it differently each time. It sounded so rich and velvety. And if he said redolent, he wouldn't be taken it too far.

He had said: "People are always around you, they just don't _see_ you."

And by that noon, he started _seeing_; the guy's blood red hair and that mark on his forehead that hid a million thing. His electrifying eyes and long fingers. The way he held the cigarette and the way he put it off. How he would slightly part his lips, letting way to a long stream of smoke.

And how, whenever he appeared at sight, it caused a strange yet so familiar tightness in Naruto's chest. His stomach would churn and curl on itself, refusing to untie for the rest of the day.

He started noticing Gaara, and he did not know what to make of it or of all the emotions and sensations it brought.

He was afraid, because his gut instinct was telling him something was wrong. So goddamn wrong. This will not end well. Nothing ended well for him, and like Gaara had pointed out, he wasn't lucky either.

He didn't know about his redheaded friend, but Naruto was beyond the point of addiction. And yeah, he didn't do half-assed things.

From that point, the two of them became closer, meeting everyday at different hours and coming up with a number of reasons to explain their absence to teachers and classmates. It was in no way easy, but it was worth it, that much Naruto knew.

Cigarettes became less enjoyable when they're not smoked at the school's background; when they're not smoked with _that_ person.

Classes, typically unbearable, is now torture sessions.

Sasuke's glares and questioning looks increased in frequency and more often than not Naruto found himself trying to avoid his friend at all costs. He was not ready for explaining; not ready to admit how much _colorful_ life had become and how Sasuke had nothing to do with the spraying of colors.

Girls asked, and he told them the truth, forgoing to mention that he is meeting with another guy daily and adding a lot of things about family and family problems. Girls being, well, girls, they wanted to help.

Not being as dumb as everyone else thought he was; one thing Naruto was glad for.

He was much more than meets the eye, that's what his godfather had said. He also told him that having a little cunning side isn't a bad thing but indeed, an asset.

That didn't mean he liked lying, but through the years, it was a companion of sorts. White lies, they called them. White was deceiving and he didn't understand why people associated the color with purity and divine shit.

Though… he wondered how Gaara was handling the situation on his part. It seemed as if he was never really troubled about it. The two crossing paths on the hallways turned into a game; to see how much they can bump at each other or share glances without arising queries.

So far, it worked. Miraculously.

* * *

Now Naruto was tiptoeing on the white, ever so clean concrete of one of the school's many hallways; when he got outside, he ran as fast as he could to the _place._

They just resorted to call it that. With all the poetry they read, they couldn't find a more elegant, fancy sounding name.

For now, the _place_ was fine.

When he finally reached to it, he saw him, and he felt dizzy.

Gaara was sleeping soundly, or so it seemed to him, with legs slightly parted, one hand resting on his stomach while the other fell limply beside him on the grass.

He looked so peaceful and… _safe._

Naruto, impulsively, wanted to reach with his hand, to touch those red locks and challenge the breeze that strayed in them like it does in a wheat field. He couldn't though, because the owner of those red locks opened his eyes and peered at him lazily behind half closed eyelids.

"Naruto," he greeted him.

"'Sup?" Naruto shuffled around until finding a spot where he wasn't uncomfortably close nor achingly far.

The redhead stared at him, scrutinizing. "What happened with you today?"

Naruto didn't know. Nothing really happened and he was feeling perfectly fine, aside from an agitating stomach, that is. "Nothing. I'm just sleepy and it's really hot today."

"It is." Gaara paused, his eyes narrowed. "Do you think that possibly, they could be releasing odorless gas in the air to make us feel disoriented and tired?"

He chuckled nervously. "I know _I'm_ not releasing odorless gas."

Gaara grunted. "I noticed; it still has the same effect."

"Yeah, my fart has that kind of power. Like a secret weapon, y'know?"

The redhead snickered. "We can use it to take over the school."

"That won't have the same effect you're hoping for. Everyone here is well acquainted with it. I think they don't even smell it anymore."

"That sounds very bad."

Naruto laughed, feeling eerily content with talking about such matters. His heart might have as well transformed into a brick with how heavy it became along with a consistent sinking sensation when Gaara joined in the aftermath of his laughter.

He thinks Gaara could control the world with a laugh, not only the school.

If it isn't gas, it was probably the crease of Gaara's eyes and the sound of his chortling that made him feel this disoriented.

Perhaps days ago it was paranoia and fear of discrimination that took over and caused all this disease inside him, making him reluctant to continue doing whatever the hell you'd call this.

Now, however, he wanted to spend the summer with this person. He wanted to go camping with him and do karaoke and swim in a river and talk under the stars. He wanted to get out of the city and exhaust long days with him.

He wanted Gaara to fill his existence; even if it was for a short while.

"What are you planning for the summer?" Naruto asked him.

Gaara shrugged one shoulder. "My father had planned some kind of trip to the country side. Some place called Whirlpool."

He almost felt like fainting.

Thinking that his episodes with the redhead were coming to an end this summer, Naruto couldn't help but feel depressed, so he planned on asking Gaara to move in with him for the summer at their rustic house in Whirlpool. However, his plan set itself in motion without even his consent, and everything seemed perfect.

It all fit awesomely well together. He was going to spend the summer with his friend. No classes, no dress codes, no fear of being caught. A whole three months for themselves. It was _beyond_ perfect.

But for some reason, his instincts were all over the place. For this time, though, he wanted to forget them. He wanted to just follow what was practically given to him on a silver platter.

"What are you going to do?" Gaara's voice woke him up from daydreaming about all the possibilities of a fun vacation with his new friend.

"Well, usually I spend it with my friends doing all sorts of activities. But this year Sakura is going to prepare for collage to be a cardiac surgeon and Sasuke's going to America."

"Sasuke Uchiha, America, how fitting."

Naruto chuckled. "Tell me about it. His brother and cousins are there, so he's going to spend the summer with them. He hasn't seen them for a while."

"I see. You hang out with many others, what about them?"

Naruto pouted, not really sure about the rest. Each was probably going to do their own thing and he wasn't that close to most of them.

"I really don't know. I mean they all want to prepare for next year. Lots of work. Butts all want to be something important."

"Do _you_ want to be something important?"

He stopped to think of it. What did he really want? Studying doorstoppers wasn't his thing and info memorizing wasn't one of his good friends nor was commitment to something in particular. The wind simply carried him around and he liked it. He was likely to end up working at the orchard in Whirlpool and help make wine. Yeah, that was something he delighted in doing.

"I'm going to be a vintner, y'know, make wine." He told him in the most disinterested voice he could use. Gaara nodded, indicating that he's still listening. "I also want to buy a stable and teach children how to ride horses. I love nature and I can't see myself working in the city, or behind a desk. I'm more of a jungle man."

"That's ambitious, Mowgli."

"So yeah, no one important; I'll eventually find the right girl and marry her. Y'know, someone like me."

"And ride your horses into the sunset."

Naruto chuckled. "Yeah…"

That tightness in his chest returned and the 'right girl', faceless and featureless, shaped herself into a candle and melted down at the heat of a volcanic sunset.

Their little, personal break ended, and Naruto walked back to his classroom where not only did he sense trouble, but could smell it as well.

Everybody were seated and silent; their eyes piercing threw his body like the hot rays of this afternoon's sun as he stood by the door. His teacher, standing on the platform across from them, stared at him expectantly.

"Naruto," she nodded and he returned it with one of his own, nearly bowing.

"Miss Yuuhi."

"Are you alright, Naruto?" she asked kindly, as she always did, making him feel guilty for even thinking of lying to her. "Your bathroom breaks are starting to worry me; and the rest of your classmates as well."

Upon second inspecting, Naruto could tell none of them was actually worried. Curious, was more like it. He could almost see their tongues, moving in anticipation for a flick of gossip that will satiate a desire in them he never had and never understood.

"Actually, Miss Yuuhi…" he cleared his throat. "I just felt a little chocked up by the heat," He gestured to his neck for more emphasis. "The class is pretty hot today, so I thought it'd be alright if I skipped it and, you know, breathed some fresh air."

"I see; but this is the third time on a raw. You happen to not like my classes, Naruto?"

He felt that the question she implied under this was to know whether she was a good teacher or not. She was, but math wasn't. He hated math with a passion.

"Ahhh…"

Colors started to blur and he followed a _very_ attractive orange spot that danced around the room with his eyes. More spots joined on the dancing floor and however much they bumped into each other, they seemed to regain their balance and continue dancing, either solo or with their partners.

They were so beautiful, adding weight to his heart and lungs, making it a little hard to breathe. Was he jealous because they could dance together, so freely and openly?

All he could think of at the moment is that he dearly wished to be that orange spot; surrounded by everyone, exchanging partners but always going back to its lonely position in the middle.

Voices; he detected them in the distance but couldn't recognize to whom they belonged. They were so many he wanted all of them to stop. He felt so weak to even tell them to.

The dots from before washed away; leaving behind them white, misshaped forms.

He tried to stay on his toes, but they couldn't bear his weight. His head bounded painfully and it seemed as if someone had shoved cotton in his ears.

* * *

Naruto was in a void. Complete nothingness.

He liked it. He enjoyed the sensation of being just a soul; no load of flesh, bones or muscle to carry around. Out of body experience, he preferred to call it. But this experience is mostly associated with orgasm.

Why was he thinking about that?

A disembodied penis floated so close to his weightless body and made him squirm uncomfortably. He didn't want it to touch him, so he rolled around, but his body wasn't responding.

There was no _body_ to respond! It terrified him; he wanted his body back.

Suddenly there was a goat. It scurried in his way, its face menacing. He screamed, writhing violently to no avail.

The moment it reached him, he jolted up; a completely different place. He made an attempt to wiggle his toes, then his fingers, consequently infusing life to the rest of his limbs.

"You were out." Naruto darted his head around, only to find Sasuke leaning against a desk in what appeared to be the nursery. His friend took a bite from a very red, very delicious looking apple. "What were you doing out there, frying your brains under the sun? You already don't have much to account for."

Naruto, ignoring the subtle insult, blinked. "I… I blanked out…?"

Sasuke nodded. "Idiot." Taking another apple from the plate on the desk, Sasuke threw it towards him and he barely managed to catch it before smashing on his face. "I didn't know it was that important."

At Naruto's confused look, his friend reiterated. "Seeing that guy."

He was fast to retract. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sasuke snickered. "Oh please. Our alley is small and we know each other. It seems he's doing something so good to you that when you enter class, you're all smiles and shining like a moon in summer."

Naruto didn't get it. Yes Gaara does make him happy in so many ways but how Sasuke said it implied much more than _'something so good'_ on an emotional level.

His friend probably noticed Naruto's puzzlement so he spoke again. "Let me rephrase, colloquially. Is he sucking your dick off?"

If it weren't for many years of expertise in assholes, Sasuke would now be mourning his fallen teeth.

Naruto had learned, much recently than he'd like to admit, not to end a verbal fight with a blood bath, nor to start one that more than likely will conclude with some serious injuries to both parties.

He learned, as well, not to let Sasuke tick him off by pushing his buttons. If someone knew the right ones to make him angry and mad, it was this guy. Infuriating as he might seem, the two had been through so much together.

What Sasuke had just said about knowing each other very well was right; also the exact same reason Naruto didn't immediately jump to punch the life out of his friend.

Sasuke knew fucking well that Naruto isn't skipping classes to have his dick sucked by a guy; he only said that to keep his image as the ultimate jerk that he actually is, only failing to conceal his curiosity.

Naruto knew, because their alley was not only small, but tiny; and thus barging into each other's shoulders was occasional.

"Asshole,"

"Dick face,"

"Shit licker,"

"Mother—"

"Uzumaki Naruto?" one of the nurses entered the room, cutting their quarrel short.

"Yes?"

"You're called to the principal's office."

Naruto gulped. That was some shit trouble he'd have to deal with.

Helping him up, Sasuke whispered slyly in his ear. "Good luck explaining your little crush to that man."

He glared. "What crush?!"

Before Sasuke could retort, the nurse interrupted them once again. "Gentlemen! Please, Uzumaki, the principle is waiting."

Naruto shook a fest at his friend's smirking face. "See you in hell, bastard."

Sasuke snorted. "I'm afraid you're going there with someone else."

He growled, hating the way Sasuke patted his eyelashes suggestively or the way his eyes glistened with mischief.

Fuck him.

Just outside the principal's office, Naruto stopped.

That familiar voice reached him before even noticing the red spot inside.

Gaara was explaining something to the principle, and then interrupted for a question that made it seem more or less like an interrogation was going within the room.

Interrupting the redhead was a bad move; Naruto remarked inwardly.

Checking around for any onlookers and finding none, he stepped closer to the slightly ajar door, making sure to stay out of sight in case the principle decided to take a rest from poring at the hapless redhead.

Eavesdropping isn't the worst thing he's done as of yet, right?

"… This is the second time you've asked, and I said no. We might have, coincidentally, chosen the same time to forgo classes; and I have spotted him on few occasions but did not approach him nor spend time with him."

"If, like you just claimed, spotted him, why didn't you report it to me, or perhaps another teacher?"

"I was not informed it's my duty to detect students' misbehaviors."

At this point, Naruto smiled. Gaara's tone has completely changed; he wasn't trying to maintain a friendly attitude anymore, and it showed at how strained the next question sounded.

"But we rely on you and the rest of your peers to correct the errors of one another's ways."

"I'm here to learn, not to mind the idiocy of teenagers."

"You are saying this as a teenager yourself."

"I'm afraid I was one of those unlucky kids who had to mature before their time. I'm certain a man with such expertise in teaching and dealing with adolescents would understand where I'm coming from."

The earlier smile dropped upon hearing this statement. He didn't have time to think of how much that sounded like him because their conversation was still ongoing; he wanted to hear a little bit more.

"Sabaku; students being at close proximity to each other allows _us_ to reach easily to youths in this school."

"A spying program."

"Are you accusing us of such a thing, young man?"

"I haven't, but it might as well be true. Turning students against each other has always been a thing. What's a better way than to give some of them a false sense of superiority over others, while permitting the freedom to use it whenever their self-esteem endures a blow?"

"You are walking on a thin line, Sabaku."

Gaara stood up, apparently preparing to leave. "It seems I am. Now if you'll excu-"

The principle interrupted the redhead's departure, all the while staring at Naruto with his unsettling gaze. "Sit down, kid. It seems we have company. A little too late, don't you think, Uzumaki?"

Standing at the door, Naruto mustered enough politeness to smile and bow.

"Come join us. According to the many times you're absence from classes have been recorded, I'm rather surprised you cared enough to speak with me."

Naruto rolled his eyes internally, taking a seat on a plastic chair next to Gaara, facing the principle's desk; he rubbed his neck. "You'd have dragged me from my sideburns if I didn't come."

Sending a death glare his way, the white-haired man cleared his throat. "It's been reported you two have 'skipped' over your respective classes several times during the past three weeks. Is that true, Uzumaki?"

"If it's been reported, then why are you asking me?" He could have easily answered, but getting under that man's skin seemed to be rather fun after _incidentally _hearing the old fart's conversation with his friend.

The man sighed. "I need to hear your saying in this. Sabaku here says you two are not acquainted. Is that right?"

Naruto shrugged. "I did see him several times, you know, being in the same school and all; but no, we never skipped classes together. He's not even in my class."

The principle narrowed his eyes. "So you admit to your indiscretion?"

"Yes."

"We try hard to sympathize with students' issues; according to that, I have to ask why do you think forgoing hours of education is less important than fooling around in the school's grounds?"

Naruto gazed down at his lab, intertwining his fingers. He felt uneasy about it, but if there was an excuse, this will be the most prominent one. "It's just… my parent's divorce and all."

"I understand very well the ramifications of parents' separation; that, however, doesn't give your absent from classes a reason. Guarantying your commitment to this school and its rules is our first and utmost priority; your comfort, on the other hand, comes next."

"Okay."

"Do not _okay_ me, Uzumaki. I have been in the business of teaching for nearly fifty years now and the likes of you has come and gone and can still tell stories about what I have done to students that slacked and thought they could slip away from punishment."

"But you just said you sympathize-"

"And I stand by my word."

"But Mr. Senju, as far as I know, this is a school, not a prison or a penitentiary."

"Are you trying to be smart with me, _Mr. _Uzumaki?"

"I'm merely pointing out that you can't expect to gain students' respect, trust and dedication if you don't show them some yourself. We are intelligent and more than capable of understanding your words. It's that we choose to convert them as most of us believe that your ways are oppressed and out-dated. I mean you just said teaching is a business."

"What are you implying, boy?"

"I'm implying that it's time for you to retire. Fifty years must've been such a pressure on your system."

The principle placed his large hands on the table and leaned across it; face inches away from his so much Naruto could smell the pleasant scent of mint candy.

Rather a surprise such a person had a nice breath.

"Listen here, Uzumaki. You may be the luckiest kid to ever enter this school and have some nerve to speak with me in such manner without being banned out, of not only this school, but every other institution that might have given two shits about your education.

"Duo to standing at a dire situation where the academic year is at its end and the final exams are approaching, I'll suggest we meet with your teachers so they can all agree to a punishment befitting of an egotistical, self-centered brat like yourself. That goes for you too, Sabaku."

Clearing his throat, the man concluded. "You are allowed to go now until I gather teachers at the end of this day. You will be called here and I expect the two of you to show proper respect."

While the two strode out of the office, Senju, rather dramatically threatened for the last time. "It's your last chance…"

"… _At saving the world of scum-bags like me…_" Naruto added, imitating mockingly the principal's voice before bursting out with laughter.

He could hear Gaara sniggering behind him.

Turning to his friend, Naruto grinned. "Gaara, let's be legends. This school will remember us for the end of time."

"What are you thinking of?" Gaara asked him.

Naruto summoned his most evil grin. "He said it; they can't do anything. We'll probably be forced to clean floors and some shit after school ends."

He struck a pose, arms in the air and cackled madly. Or what he thought to be mad cackling. "You'll see… we'll be the ones laughing at the end."

Finally outdoors, Naruto and Gaara walked to the small, empty stadium surrounding the exterior basketball court and chose to sit at the far end of it where shade covered the large stairs.

Students were still having their classes.

It was silent until Gaara spoke. "I watched your basketball game yesterday."

"You did?" he stopped himself before asking if Gaara thought he played good or not.

"Yes. You weren't that bad. Focused; lacking in the teamwork department."

Naruto huffed. "I don't lack teamwork."

"Yeah, that's why you lost."

It was a little like a stab. "We didn't lose because I 'lack teamwork'. We lost because the idiots I play with are well… idiots."

"The true idiot is one who perceives others as idiots."

He began sensing that heat rising within him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Taking his eyes away from the court and looking at him, Gaara answered. "You're arrogant."

Naruto snorted. "No I'm not. I'm good at what I do, and so I expect others to be as well."

"What if they weren't?"

Naruto thought the answer for that one was obvious. "Then they shouldn't play basketball! I mean you either contribute something or hold back."

"So you, not passing the ball, counts as contributing?"

There was a voice in his head, pressing him to say something else in fear Gaara would think differently of him; but then he knew it won't be real. He'd be lying and Gaara wouldn't like that.

"At least I know what _I_ was doing. This is my game; I'm competent enough to be called a team player."

Gaara stared forward. "Not enough to be made captain."

"pffft, like I want to be captain anyway."

"No, it's because you weren't asked to be team captain. You don't have team spirit."

Gaara was getting too close and it annoyed him, so he did like every other person does in such situations; point out the other person's flaws as if that would make his disappear. "Like _you_ have team spirit."

"No, I don't. That's why I prefer to do things that don't require more than one individual."

He let out a frustrated growl. "What do you want from me then?!"

The redhead scowled at him. "I want you to stop thinking of how imperfect this world is; stop expecting from people to give their all the same way you do; just stop it. Stop loading everything on your shoulders as if you're responsible for other people's mistakes. You're not the messiah, you're Naruto. It's good to be Naruto."

He became highly aware of his damp eyes and tried to gaze up so no tears would fall.

His soul was reduced to a ricochet. It pounced off the walls inside him and now it tried to seep out of his eyes. Naruto just wanted to crawl into a corner and rock himself to sleep.

However, he inhaled sharply when something soft engulfed his hand. Glancing down, he saw Gaara's hand enveloping his. The redhead wasn't squeezing too tight nor did it seem forced. It was just wrapped warmly around his, concealing all the disharmonies and insecurities that plagued him.

For a moment, Naruto didn't want to let go, but like he did whenever it was uncomfortable, he joked.

"I didn't know you were the type to hold hands."

"I'm not."

Naruto sniggered. "So it's just for me?"

Gaara looked down, face sullen. "No… It's for me."

"Do you want a hug?" he asked without thinking and regretted it when his friend stared at him impassively as if he just suggested they strip out of their clothes and threaten everyone with water balloons.

When Gaara didn't answer, Naruto retracted. "I'm sorry I just thou-"

"I'm not certain."

"What?"

Gaara sighed. "I'm not certain if I want to be that close to you."

He chuckled. "Are you, or are you not aware that you're holding my hand?"

"It's different." Gaara said. "I can still walk away; if you held me, it'll be different because then it's more than mere consoling."

Naruto didn't understand. "Why are you putting such pressure on it? I mean you're not obligated to hug me or anything."

The redhead stared him in the eye, compelling Naruto to acknowledge the rapid beating of his heart. "I want to, but in the same time I don't. You make me uncertain about many things. I found myself reevaluating everything since the moment I talked to you and I came to the realization that you… you frighten me."

Naruto could almost hear the screeching of a record. "I frighten you?"

"I've never felt comfortable with physical contact. Holding your hand, however, it was an unconscious act. I wasn't aware of it until it happened." Gaara smiled faintly. "Holding your hand… it doesn't feel so bad."

He turned his palm upwards, reciprocating his friend's gesture and twining their fingers together in what seemed to be the gayest thing he'd ever done.

Holding Gaara's hand… it didn't feel so bad.

* * *

"Here it is." the short, chubby janitor handed them a paper with a list of what they were going to do as punishment. "I ain't going to supervise, so you better do all these things right."

Naruto grunted, but took the paper nonetheless. It promised a long day, but becoming a legend doesn't happen easily.

The janitor pointed at a corner full of cleaning supplies and equipment. "There's everything you two will need. When done, return it all to its place."

They nodded, watching the man turn his back and walk away after giving them one final glare. "I want to see my reflection on the floor."

Naruto leaned on Gaara's ear. "A sense of superiority, you said?"

His friend snorted. "Let's get this done with."

The paint buckets were waiting for them exactly where they left them. The two shuffled around until they gathered all empty buckets the janitor had given them and filled it with paint. Orange, pink, blue, yellow, green and yeah, _red._

It was perfect.

Naruto grinned mischievously and Gaara returned it with one of his own evil smirks.

"Perhaps we should put some music?" he suggested.

The redhead nodded.

"Let the show begin."

* * *

Naruto sighed contently. "It's like we're inside a bubblegum. A very chewed bubblegum."

Gaara peered at their work, scrutinizing. "Maybe we added too much pink."

"Are you kidding? Pink is awesome!"

His friend hummed. "Now to our masterpiece,"

"Senju's going to have a rough day tomorrow~." Naruto sang out.

Taking the few buckets left, the two made a bee line to the principal's office. Suspiciously enough, the door was left open, so the two took cautious before entering.

There was no one to be seen.

"This's odd…"

"It's not like him to leave the office unlocked."

Glancing at Gaara for reassurance, Naruto walked deeper inside the mystery of all mysteries that is Senju's office.

"I hope he think it's blood." Gaara whispered behind him.

"His wife's blood."

"He's not married."

"Pffft, figures."

Bumping their paint rollers together, the two dipped them in the only color left.

"We need to make it look as if someone was killed here." Gaara said.

"How? Have you killed anyone before?" he wondered.

"I contemplated killing my father several times. Not in such a messy way, though."

"How then?"

Gaara picked under his nails disinterestedly. "Poison; fast and efficient."

"You're evil."

"Who isn't?"

Naruto shifted his weight to his other leg. "I'm starting to have second thoughts about this. I mean it's one thing to vandalize an entire school and _thoroughly different thing_ to mess with a Senju."

"It's too late to have second thoughts, Naruto; we're already in too deep."

He grouched. "We're so going to be expelled."

"We finished our exams. The school had ended. They can't expel us." Gaara said in a matter-of-fact tone. "The worst they can do is degrade our marks enough to fail this year."

Naruto gasped. "You mean make us repeat the last year of high school?!"

Gaara shrugged. "Maybe. But they would want to get rid of us, so I believe there's a chance we might pass this unharmed."

"What if they sentenced us to prison?"

The redhead gave him the same impassive look he did the other day. It was absolutely shaming.

Naruto suddenly remembered. "Hey, next week's our anniversary. Y'know, for the first day we started hanging out together."

"What a joy." Gaara deadpanned.

He chuckled. "Hey Gaara… I'm looking forward to our next anniversary."

The redhead snorted. "If I haven't succeeded in brainwashing you by then."

"I think your job is already done."

Gaara displayed an expression Naruto had never seen before; his eyes at first seemed clouded, but then his face mellowed and he smiled crookedly. Naruto sensed something thin, like a thread, drift between them. He wanted to get hold of it and pull the redhead closer.

He couldn't though, because a roaring echo that shook the room sounded from outside.

"BASTARDS~~!"

"At least food in prison is free, and we'd wear these awesome orange suits!"

"Your optimism disturbs me."

* * *

To clarify some things, I used names like Nana, the anime and the manga; also the song Winter Sleep by Olivia Lufkin is sang in the anime (the series is really beautiful with astounding music; you should check it).

Seven Stars, like you might have noticed, is a cigarettes' brand smoked by the protagonist in said manga.

This is just the prologue, but I hopefully succeeded in making it stand as a one-shot.

Just a warning: I'm not going to take this fic seriously, so you shouldn't as well. If you're expecting something epic, than I suggest you look for another story to read. Conflicts will be present but they will be solved promptly and easily. I just want to keep things light-hearted and silly. So yeah.

I hope you enjoyed ^^

A note: if anyone interested in beta-reading this very chapter or next ones, please drop me a PM.


	2. Wine in the Nose

**_Of Cigarettes and Grape Vines_**

_~chapter_ _two_~

**Wine in the Nose**

* * *

Today, Naruto Uzumaki was at odds with the world.

Their house was surrounded by two stores; one behind the house itself and the other on the far end of their vineyard. And it all began at the early hours of morning when he was given a task to check on the food supply stored in the southern warehouse.

Why would anyone store food in there was beyond him. The place was notorious for rat attacks and humidity that presses on one's beliefs.

The only thing good to store there was wine, but it wasn't the case here.

He knew what was awaiting him; his mother knew as well and she apologized before hopping in her truck and heading out of town.

With a great rumble, the large, tall wooden door slid open and Naruto stood at the entrance, scrunching his face in expectancy for an unbearable waft to reach his nose any moment.

It did, and it was worse than spoiled milk and guys' armpits after training.

For one to forget about food there needs to be a legit reason. For his _mother_, of all people, to procrastinate, omit the mission she assigned herself and worst of all, wait for him to remind her of what she's supposed to do were all things Naruto never thought would ever happen. Not in this life time anyway.

The divorce must have taken its toll on her, and she silently endured it.

He felt like a paper bag in a storm; whether he got thrown there or flew by sheer willpower was unknown to him. And why that line of thought didn't affect him was a contemplation for another day.

Focusing on the problem at hand, Naruto climbed the tall pile of chaff squares positioned against the wall to reach for the large, rectangular window in order to let light inside the dark store; he then skidded down, and started shoving rotten vegetables and fruits in sackcloth bags, feeling incredibly sad at the sight of gray strawberries and disgusted at the texture of the white mold that covered the prickly pears.

While it should have made him angry to be put in such situation along with all the poor, innocent food, he found himself rather retrospectively feeling sorrier for his mother.

The last thing Kushina Uzumaki would want is her own son pitying her, so it was better to hold these thoughts within mind range. Her sixth sense far exceeded his; therefore he was still thankful she couldn't read his mind. Entirely anyway.

Naruto fetched a small, rusty can from one of the warehouse's jumbled corners and filled it with few worms he managed to collect from the rotten food he put inside the bag.

They would make for good fishing baits.

Continuing with his work, he took an old pitchfork and swept the straws and other things that found its way into the stock out of the warehouse. As he worked on cleaning the ground, Naruto thought about his school situation; or lack, thereof.

Having no one to vouch for him, Naruto was given two choices; either repeat the last year of high school or drop out.

He dropped out.

It seems like life didn't want much from him.

But you know? He didn't want much of it either; just a small space for himself.

Wanting to break free from the clutches of what they called 'school', Naruto picked the second option without much hesitation. It certainly didn't please his parents, as they had to sit down for three hours to discuss their son's misdeeds with the principle and other teachers.

After that session, he never remembered seeing them so goddamn broken.

What did they expect from him? Were they expecting anything at all?

Kushina had patted his shoulder encouragingly after they left the school but said nothing, while Minato smiled brusquely, bidding them goodbye the moment his mother's truck arrived in front of his house.

From there, days went on worse than lukewarm tea.

It was sooner or later they'd have to accept the fact their son is not going to college, and both of them will eventually seek a solution. But for the meantime, things were a bit strained, especially with his father whom he hadn't seen since they came back from school nor received a call from.

This family had kept itself afloat, mainly because of him. Naruto knows, however, that seams in a boat cannot be fixed by stitching.

Demanding higher education, his parents sent him to the city where he could attend what they apparently perceived as a 'good school', thus arranging for a temporary stay with his godfather until he returns at the beginning of every summer to this place.

And this place, in a display of startling stubbornness, refused to change.

No matter how much their house had modified itself through the years, the vast area embracing it remained unchangeable.

Trees, tall and proud, stood as guardians, forming a necklace around the house which in itself was one of the moles in an otherwise clear face. Its neck was a lengthy vineyard you needed to cross in order to reach the main lands; but there was the back entrance as well, which saved you the inconvenience of having to walk through several miles of soil.

After it sprawled a chest that was famous for its flowery knolls; then there was what Naruto liked to call the 'womb', a natural dam that provided water to their crops. The legs extended to a small forest separating their land from the rest of Whirlpool; it gave their home an isolated, secluded air.

Standing outside, Naruto inhaled deeply, appreciatively; Whirlpool's mornings were a sin to miss. He pulled a cigarette out of his jeans overall's pocket and lit it, inhaling; the scent of tobacco soothing his mind.

Sauntering through the vineyard, taking his time to check on the green buds that would become as black as beautiful summer nights and caressing them with love and care, Naruto looked up at the sky, both of them receiving the warmth of a grumpy sun.

He smiled, the soft breeze frizzing around his face, sending a pleasant shiver through his body and causing the hairs at the back of his neck to stand.

Arriving at the dam, Naruto strode to the bank which was a small grassy ravine, serving as a platform for when they used to have picnics.

He secured the cigarette's butt in his pocket before stepping out of his loosely tied shoes, unclasping his overall's straps and snaking out of it, consequently taking off his shirt and adding it to the pile. Since there was nobody around, Naruto got rid of his boxers as well and hopped in place until the cold air felt a bit merciful on his flesh.

Walking to the edge, Naruto tested the waters' temperature with his toes; it was as chilly as would be expected.

Taking a mighty breath, he descended down to the water, submerging himself to the chest. He then swam forward, waving his limbs around like noodles, getting every part of his body to accommodate to the water.

It was such a nice feeling, to be back here. This sense of distance, of isolation… why did he prefer it above all else? People often envied his parents for their 'out going, cheerful son'. It consequently made him feel like two people resided his body.

Or maybe he was just a swindling lair.

Sun rose high in the sky, and he swam back to the dam side, resting his back against the edge. Now that he was in such a serene state, Naruto's mind wandered inadvertently to someone he found himself dearly missing.

His heart skipped a beat. It annoyed him how that person could cause such a feeling of… estrangement, from the rest of the world; forlorn, that's what Naruto felt whenever the redhead crossed his mind.

He glanced up at the stream of clouds that blotted the sun, seeing turquoise where there isn't.

It was such an odd feeling.

* * *

Minato Namikaze stared at his beautiful, long legs in the long mirror he oh-so-loved, satisfactory written all over his face.

Such a beautiful morning, such a nice life; nothing is better than two legs glistening after a shaving session, giving their owner the confidence to start his day fresh and happy.

The blond man skipped around the room, extending his arms to an imaginary partner, voicelessly asking for a dance. The invisible partner nodded to him, and they swayed around the room, moving with unmatchable gracefulness.

If Minato was anything, he was an excellent dancer.

He twirled his partner around, the invisible presence pivoting weightlessly on its toes, raising its leg up in the air and balancing on its other one, all with such agility that left Minato simultaneously stunned and thrilled.

The invisible partner then graced the floor with the touch of its feet, and maneuvered nimbly to Minato's side, still holding his hand.

Their movements subsequently slowed down until the due parted, bowing to each other with practiced nobility. He gave his thanks to his partner for the good dance and strutted to the kitchen, catching the irresistible scent of his meal, ready to devour.

It was indeed, a beautiful morning. To him anyway.

Hearing the distinct cuckoo that was his doorbell ringing, Minato waddled to the door, opening it to see one Naruto that turned from smiling sheepishly to staring at him, flabbergasted.

"Naruto," he greeted, grinning widely at his son's bemused face.

"… Dad…"

Minato stepped aside, ushering his son inside the house. "You came at such a wonderful time. Breakfast is ready."

Naruto followed his father inside, almost forgetting to close the door behind him while unconsciously surveying the room, searching for any sign of life beside his father.

"What brought you here?" Minato's voice sounded from the kitchen.

He scratched his head. "Ahhh… you didn't call; I just wanted to check on you."

Minato laughed. "I'm one fine bottle of wine; don't worry about me."

"Yeah I guess…" Naruto fidgeted in place, feeling eerily uncomfortable about the subject, especially after seeing what kind of outfit his father was proudly donning. "Y'know… I actually came here to say… I'm-"

"Come here, Naruto."

With the docility of a child, he complied, making his way to the kitchenette, to not so gleefully be greeted by his father's bare butt.

Naruto huffed in disgruntlement. "Dad, please put something on."

His father turned around, an easy smile painted perfectly on his face. "I already have something on."

"Besides the pink apron!"

Minato leaned against the sink with his elbows, scrutinizing his son's clothes "What do you want me to dress like?"

Naruto crossed his arms. "I don't know. Like normal fathers are supposed to dress like?"

The taller man shrugged. "But I'm comfortable in this, just like they're comfortable in their boring trousers and ugly golf shirts."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, too agitated. "Why can't you be normal?"

"What is your definition of normal, Naruto?"

His embarrassment fainted at the question, and he raised his head, meeting his father's warm blue eyes. They weren't expectant, they were accepting; but they were still there, holding him in place.

What was his definition of normal… he's struggled with the concept of normalcy for most of his life; he should know what it's like.

But wasn't it like love? It didn't have just _one _definition, by default. You define it the way you know it; the way you experience it.

He had no fucking idea what it was.

"I… I don't know." Naruto finally answered, rubbing the back of his head, eyes downcast.

"Listen Naruto," Minato started. "You should let me be, and let other people be as well. I believe this will make your life much less stressful."

What did his father know about stressful?

Minato suddenly laughed. "Now now, let's eat breakfast; you must be hungry."

The two sat around the small table in the kitchen, setting their plates, full of pancakes and strawberries; gentle light filtering through a yellow, half opened gauzy curtain.

Minato broke the silence, waiting to swallow before he spoke. "How's your mother?" he asked apathetically.

"She's fine." He answered, easily pinpointing the man's poorly hidden curiosity. "This morning she rode the truck outside town, said it's a surprise."

His father scratched his neck, feigning disinterest. "A surprise?"

Naruto snorted, finding the man's tone to be rather interesting for someone who acted all too indifferent. "Yeah, I guess she's gonna bring something with her; though she seemed a little nervous about it."

Blue eyes widened. "Kushina, nervous? Those words don't exist in the same vocabulary."

He shrugged. "I could be wrong, but that's what I felt."

"Perhaps she's seeing someone?"

Naruto gaped. "Huh? There's no way, your divorce procedures has barely end-"

"_I'm _seeing someone."

The fork unwittingly fell from his hand and collided loudly with his empty platter, resounding through the small kitchen. "Really?!" he exclaimed, nauseous all of a sudden.

Minato locked him with a leveled stare, maintaining that bothersome expression of easiness. "While I did expect you'd be surprised, I didn't realize it would make you mad."

He wasn't mad. Yes he was surprised, and a little more than irked, but he wasn't mad. Was he?

The man shifted his posture, resting his back against the wooden chair and draping an arm over it. "Kushina and I are still young. We're both uncommitted now, unmarried, and as you might have noticed, kind of attractive; it's our right to go see other people."

Dull anger swelled inside him like a lost dragon with no purpose; his shoulders slumped down, stiff hands found shelter in his lap and huddled away from another pair of blue eyes.

Why did it feel like millions of candles inside him were being blown out?

Naruto got up from his chair, feeling incredibly low spirited to argue or even stay. Minato followed suit, not saying anything but toeing behind his son to the main house's door.

The shorter blond tried to open the door, but it refused to cooperate; he started yanking it aggressively.

_Where did all this frustration come from?!_

Sleek fingers wrapped around the knob, twisting it the other way around, allowing sun light to settle within the house.

He turned around, forcing a thankful expression on his face. "Thanks."

Minato nodded, looking amused which made the situation even worse.

"Naruto," the man stood at entrance, smiling kindly. "Try to understand us, especially your mother. Just because we're seeing other people doesn't mean we don't respect each other, or the life we had shared. Kushina and I are still good friends, you know that."

What he knew is that he didn't come all the way from their home to town so his father could stomp on his day with this unbelievable, _hurtful _nonchalance. He had hoped they'd speak about his future; maybe receive some form of support but yet all he got was misplaced cheerfulness and it completely, _utterly_ crushed him.

However, he nodded, walking as fast as possible, far away from so much confusion, his anger nowhere near dissipating.

Between Minato and Kushina, where _was_ he in this equation?

* * *

Naruto walked through the busy streets of Whirlpool's one and only market. It was a huge one; a long, ancient cobblestone tunnel, paved in flat stones with painstaking precision; shaded by a massive ceiling constructed above the market, providing all colors of the rainbow to bath it during day.

The shops, ever restless, lined the road, calling people in to try their food, beverages, trinkets, and clothes.

Faces beamed, arms flung, shoulders bumped and it was never quiet. But that's what gave the Cassay Market its fame.

And it's also why Naruto chose it out of all places.

But if anything, he was really proud of this place, for reasons he was not entirely familiar with.

Whirlpool has stood unflinching in the face of rural industry, retaining its provincial wilderness and regional simplicity, yet remaining as artistic and beautiful as anyone could remember; and this market, this stony road, was a sign of it all.

What made it such a mystery, however, was the way the cobblestone tunnel branched into small routs that lead nowhere at times, and lead you out of the market at other times.

History books claim this tunnel was built during the war when several enemies of the country decided to finally get the snake out of their boots and invade it, thus forcing the local army to retreat, choosing Whirlpool as a station for their corps, relying on its never ending food and water sources, its tricky geography and the oblivious state of its people.

The boulder of realization eventually crumbling on them, the country opened its eyes on its weakened state, and issued an order to construct the tunnel, primarily using it for cover and ambush plans if the enemy ever discovered the underground burrow, hence digging dead-end routs, endless stairs and secret passages where it would be easy to confuse and frustrate the enemy soldiers.

Several maps of the tunnel were then spread around, reaching the enemies' hands and prompting them to attack once again, unknowingly putting their trust on a false map.

They _did_ ultimately raise the tunnel above ground, but to end it short, they got much more than what they bargained for.

Naruto inhaled, immersing in the smell of grilled meat and vegetables that flooded the street, sneaking into the seamed road, between the stones and the cracks in the walls.

His stomach growled, and he fished money out of his pocket and went to the vendor, buying himself a pita pocket, filled with seasoned meat, its fragrance intoxicating his brain.

Finding a spot outside at the market's mouth where a grassy blanket spread itself on the sides of the road, illuminated by the sun of Whirlpool's hot middays, Naruto perched under a tree, fully appreciating the cool shade the leaves provided.

Taking the first bite of this heavenly sandwich, he moaned; crunching the slices of meat, green pepper and onion between his teeth, relishing in the flavors that filled his mouth; the savory taste of the pungent pepper sauce burning his throat in a good way as he swallowed.

Food was the only, one thing, worth worshiping on this sinful earth.

As he laid down on his back, chewing thoughtfully on the last of his sandwich, Naruto's mind wandered to his friends whom he saw off, leaving each other hanging.

Sasuke and Sakura left, to new lives, to places where he couldn't see them, were he couldn't comfort them; places where he wouldn't be there to celebrate their victories and failures, to watch over and share a plate of fries with them. The thought made his chest contract with even more pain than before.

What were they doing now, he wondered.

But however! He shook his head; they had promised to call each other once they'd settled, yet… he got no calls and made no attempt to call himself.

What kind of bunch were they?

_The kind of bunch that miss each other silently… _

Naruto scoffed. They were nothing but idiots.

He got up, deciding it's time to go back home and check on the one misfit which worried him the most. But before that, he needed to pick up few things to prepare lunch for his guest.

* * *

Planks of wood creaked under Naruto's feet as he entered the northern warehouse, the place where their old, unused furniture were kept. This time, however, it was more than dusty sofas and broken chairs that lurked in the darkness of the warehouse.

Hearing a distinctive whistle coming from above, Naruto glanced up to see his friend sitting on piled up couches, silhouetted by the light coming from a window similar to the one in the southern warehouse.

The shock of white hair that crowned his head and fell down to cover his left eye seemed almost transparent, mingling with the equally pale rays filtering from outside.

For his friend, to choose this as a room, out of all places. So like him.

Naruto smiled. "Hey Kakashi,"

"Hey Naruto,"

He noticed a familiar orange book in his friend's hands. "Where in hell did you get _that_ from?"

The white-haired man finally gazed down at him, seemingly upset for being distracted from his book. "One of your parents seems to have a rather… interesting, taste in literature."

Naruto sneered in disgruntlement, trying to keep the thought of them as far as possible. "I don't even care anymore. So, what have you been up to?"

The tall man stood up, cracking the joints in his back before tardily descending down the couches. "Reading."

"And?"

"Reading." Kakashi looked around the warehouse. "Isn't there any other books I can read?"

Naruto huffed. "Not the kind you want, I assure you."

Kakashi sighed dramatically. "Such is my life."

His eye twitched. "Aren't you hungry, Kakashi?"

Brightness crawled on the man's face, and he clapped his hands excitedly, just like a child would. "I am!"

Naruto snickered as they made a bee line out of the warehouse. "So, anything interesting in that book?"

"Trying to fool me, Naruto, huh?" Kakashi gave him a sideway glance. "I know you've read it."

Warmness crept to his cheeks, prompting him to look away. "Although I _do _hope you've washed your hands before picking up the book again."

Naruto's face flared. "Kakashi!"

The older man chuckled. "I thought most boys your age were drawn to pornography."

He huffed. "_Most, _most boys are drawn to it._" _

Kakashi ruffled his hair lovingly like he always did. "It delights me to know you've found words strong enough to stir you physically. Not many people do."

Naruto shrugged. "I just find porn extremely corny and unbelievable; not in a good way."

"True." Kakashi nodded sagely. "Did you ever have sex yourself, Naruto?"

He halted in the place, right before the house's door.

That man was a master at making him feel awkward and at complete disadvantage.

"I take your silence as a sign you haven't?"

Naruto strode to the door and opened it, stiffly walking inside.

His sexual activity was none of Kakashi's business, as far as he was concerned. "I just don't like talking about these things with people."

"So you consider me 'people?" Kakashi asked, giving him a pointed look.

"It's not about that!" he exclaimed exasperatedly, feeling annoyed, inexplicably so, and not because Kakashi was pressing him to confess his virginity.

It irked him because the subject itself brought the memory of someone he wasn't supposed to think about when it came to sex matters.

"It's not about that…" he faltered. "I… no, well- yes, I'm a virgin. Are you happy now?"

They continued their way to the kitchen in heavy silence, Kakashi toeing after him. He finally seemed to have an answer, though.

"No, in fact, I'm not happy. Labeling yourself a virgin just because you're yet to engage in sex with someone is not very clever. Refrain from having such a narrow view on things society has created. A boy like you should know better."

Naruto didn't answer, clinging into silence until they reached the kitchen where Kakashi took a place around the rectangular table in the middle and he sauntered to the sink, unloading groceries from the brown paper bag he left there.

"I've never had sex before, so what?" Naruto said, busying himself with placing food on the wooden surface surrounding the sink. "I mean… there was never someone I really _wanted_ to have sex with. Yeah, hot girls were all around me, but none of them was… desirable."

"The boys in the book were?"

He wanted to smash his head against the sink right then and there.

Naruto pivoted around sharply, facing the mellow-faced man. "Why Kakashi? Why are you asking such things? You're making me uncomfortable."

"To make someone uncomfortable, to get them out of their comfort zone, is the way to start a constructive discussion."

It bothered him greatly to realize that's exactly what the man did; getting him out of his safe haven. However it prodded him to regain some of his composer, knowing Kakashi could never mean harm. He still didn't want to talk about it, though, and he voiced it.

Kakashi shrugged nonchalantly. "It seems I was wrong at thinking you'd open up to me. Alas; what are we gonna eat?"

He took place across from his friend, putting a tuna sandwich, shored up with parmesan, olives, tomatoes, and lettuce on the table; all packed nicely between two pieces of toast. Kakashi peered at it ravenously, picked it up like a treasure, and stuffed his face with big bites.

Meanwhile, Naruto took his time, seizing the silence to stare at his friend's face. More specifically, at the scars around his mouth.

They almost seemed drawn by a cheap marker, the one you write on CDs with, but Naruto knew they weren't. Naruto knew those scars were more than real, and each had a story far beyond this life.

As children, Sakura, Sasuke and he would often joke, believing that Kakashi was a cat and this life was merely one of the many he'd lived before.

But what would you know, those scars proved them wrong.

The man continued to eat, savoring every bite as if it was his last. A man like him would know better than to under-appreciate food.

Because only recently Kakashi Hatake abandoned a homeless life for a more 'comfy' one, and reluctantly agreed on coming to Whirlpool with Naruto instead of dwelling the city's streets like a stray cat.

However, even when sleeping and living under a roof, Kakashi still retained his appearance; dirty clothes, mussed hair, bare feet, and a dangerously alluring, mysterious air.

Once a wild cat, always a wild cat.

Naruto put down his half eaten sandwich, knowing there's no way around this elephant. "Kakashi…" the man perked at hearing his name and nodded, wiping small chunks of food off his mouth with his hand. "You're… you're not 'people'; you're my friend, and I trust you. I'm yet to feel comfortable about many things, when it comes to me. You have nothing to do about it."

"Indeed I don't," Kakashi answered unexpectedly. "But I would like to."

Naruto sighed. "_I_ wouldn't like you to."

The man stood up, seemingly finished eating, and carried his plate to the sink. "Listen Naruto, bottling emotions is no good." Kakashi turned around, his visible eye curved in a smile. "If you don't voice your feelings, then how can you change the world?"

He carried his plate to the sink as well, standing beside his taller friend. "But I don't want to change the world, Kakashi."

The white-haired man gazed up at the high ceiling of the kitchen, speaking without looking at him. "But I've seen it; I've always did. It's in your eyes. if _you _don't want to change the world, Naruto, than who _does_?"

Naruto propped his hand, turning the faucet and making it to clean the plates, hoping the sound will cover his sniffing if the tears became more persistent. "You've always been a revolutionary one." Kakashi concluded. "Perhaps you're still yet to realize what you want, or what life wants from you, but you have a sense of purpose that graces only few humans. Letting go of that is equivalent to suicide."

Kakashi glanced at him, smiling genially. "Don't let go of it."

He closed the faucet, his tears a temporary substitute for water. Clutching at the tap, teeth firmly clenched, he was suddenly pulled by his friend's strong arms to a warm chest.

Naruto clung to the holes in Kakashi's jacket, expanding them with the holes in his being, wishing they'd devour him. "I don't know anymore…" he blubbered, something melting and reforming within him. "I'm so confused- I'm so scared… I feel so lonely- Kakashi…"

The man drew soothing lines on his back, stroking his hair lovingly, wordlessly letting him vent all these emotions. Naruto held tighter on his friend's jacket, wishing the heat would melt him away.

Wishing he hadn't broke down.

"We all feel lonely sometimes, Naruto." the man said, holding Naruto's shoulder and prompting him to look at his eye. "It's _alright_ to feel lonely; what's not alright is to think that you're actually _alone_."

Kakashi smiled widely, challenging the borders of the room and the whole universe. "Get it?"

Naruto sniffed, wiping snot with his hand. He was not able to grapple with such sincerity, and so he faced away. "You're making me uncomfortable again, Kakashi."

His friend laughed heartily. "I'm trying here."

The laughter calmed his world for now, and he stepped away, drying his tear-stained face. "You stink by the way. Go take a shower."

Kakashi sniffed under his armpits. "That's the nicest I've smelled in a long time."

Naruto snorted. "One of the reasons mom allowed you to stay is to be clean and help with the land's duties."

Kakashi scratched his head sheepishly. "She hasn't been very sure about me to begin with. Bringing a stranger with you is certain to have worried her."

"You're not a strange-"

"To her I am."

He shifted weight to his other leg, eyeing the kitchen's entrance as if someone is going to come in any moment. "I've already explained the situation to her." he said, looking back at his friend. "Mom is an understanding woman in nature. Just shower every now and then, do what she tells you to, crack some good jokes and she won't mind having you around."

Kakashi chuckled. "I can work on that."

As the man strode out of the kitchen, heading for the bathroom across from them, Naruto shouted after him. "And for crap's sake, throw these clothes away and take something decent from my closet."

The man shouted back, assuring him that yes, he will change into something more seemly.

Naruto let out a sigh of relief, glad to have settled things within himself, as utopian as it felt, anyway.

Fetching his pack of cigarettes from his overalls' pocket, Naruto walked out of the house, dashing through the main land and shrubbery until arriving to the vineyard where he lit his cigarette, taking advantage of his mom's absence.

His mind returned to hovering over the memory of the person a cigarette always managed to remind him of.

It's been three days since they've spoken. And with this one as well, he made no attempt to call, even going so far as to restrain his fingers from dialing the number whenever his cell phone was nearby.

He didn't want Gaara to think he's dying to speak with him, even though yes, he was. He wanted to have a conversation with the redhead. He wanted to see him badly and to truly begin the summer, with him.

But above all else, he _needed_ a reassurance the redhead wasn't merely a fraction of his mind.

He needed to feel that tangibility one more time; to have the redhead in his life once again.

Only _he_ had the power to fill and create new pores in Naruto's world however he wished. Some of them were painfully drilled, but yet the process of drilling them felt so good and refreshing; almost adventurous.

Naruto took a long drag from his cigarette, but instantly shot it to the ground once he heard noises coming from behind him. He glanced back, and upon seeing red, he waved his arms around in a futile attempt to scatter the smoke but the footsteps on the soil ceased not.

His heart began to bump faster in his chest and he knew; he _knew_ his mother is going to kill him and bath in his blood.

For a moment that seemed to warp eternity all together, Naruto could no longer feel his pulsing heart.

There was turquoise where there _should _be turquoise…

"Gaa-"

"We're in deep shit."

* * *

Notes:

Cliffhangers are fun, ne?

I want to thank everyone who favored, reviewed, and put this on their alerts. You guys are all awesome and I hope despite this chapter's short length compared to the previous one, it wasn't disappointing.

My personal problem with Minato and Kushina is that whenever they're portrayed in AU, if alive, they're always this idolized, perfect couple. It annoys me, as I want their relationship to be problematic, more complex, and less like Barbie and Ken. So yeah.

Next chapter will be seen from Gaara's point of view so we can all know what the **fuck** is actually going on! Till next one, lovelies~


	3. White Sands

**_Of Cigarettes and Grape Vines_**

~_chapter three_~

**White Sands**

* * *

Notes: Gaara's father will be referred to as Daichi, as a user on tumblr suggested.

There's a scene where a piano will be played on and thus I'll provide you with the pieces beforehand:  
Piano Bar from the series Cowboy Bebop, available on Youtube.  
Poor Faye from the same series, also available on Youtube.

* * *

He could see himself clearly, standing far away at the edge of a sand dune.

He preferred to stay at a reasonable distance during such visions and pretend he's watching another person; though he could tell what kind of expression hisself is wearing even when he's looking away.

It would seem like such a nonsensical, chaotic thing, hisself; but sometimes, it would be a long line of coordinated rhymes.

And at times, he would take the shape of someone else, but it would still be him. Deep inside he knows it's still him but somehow he can't help but wonder if it's really not.

This time, it was him alright, but he wasn't alone.

Beside him stood a taller guy; he recalled how comfortable it was to place his head on the other's shoulder.

It was dawn, and the air was cold and shrewd. A profound sense of finality resided in it like a musk he grew accustomed to during the last month. That familiar scent didn't belong to the person next to him, however.

No matter how much the other guy changed, in his visions he'd always have the same keen yet delicate features. His hair would be as luscious as ever. His eyes would still remain paler than his and his skin softer.

Time in his visions didn't change as well. It was forever a dawn, in which the sun pinned itself to a spot on the horizon, like a photo. Just like this, time didn't pass. He didn't grow, he didn't age; he was feathery in this world.

It didn't mean he liked it all the time, though. Yes he loved it when he was alone but his legs screamed at him to flee whenever that person appeared in his vision. It was a luxury he refused to retain.

That person denied him it and he obliged; a docile child.

He knows his imagery is vast and borderless, but he could only dwell in a small part of it, where it consisted of oceans upon oceans of sugary sand.

And then long brown hair fell around his face, surrounding his being like a fence of undeniable desire. His hands would sometimes neglect his own body and roam on the other's, tracing a map he learned to see albeit its invisibility.

_Touch yourself…_

He thinks it's too late for these games, but he can't help but play along. As long as it pleasured that person, it pleasured him.

His fingers danced around until they reached his pants' zipper and undid it.

_Don't take it off…_

The commanding tone invaded his body, sending heat waves to his groin. He let his hand massage up and down his clothed erection as the other watched him with eyes so intense, so pallid, as if they were melting down with the rest of his face.

At times, there would be pain, but only because he wasn't being touched. There would be pain because such intimate act always took place in the most detached way possible.

That didn't stop him from feeling the unadulterated yearning; so lustful and needy. With that person, sitting at the end of the bed, staring at him as if he was the absolute goal, how could he not?

Imagining it belonged to another, his hand slithered under his slips, stroking in a faster rhythm as the sound of his panting floated around the room.

Hot breath on his neck, fervent lips tracing hidden roads on his body, leaving rooms for secrets so enticing to fill other places with new riddles to be solved later.

But Later never came, and there were no kisses and no hot breath. He could feel it all as he jerked his hips, pouring all the heat out of his body only for it to return moments later.

There were so many details but it passed so fast, leaving him gasping alone in a room so different from his imagery. In a room that seemed so blue.

Without getting up from his bed, he searched the nightstand clumsily for a box of tissues. Getting one and cleaning the remains of what he now regretted, he stood up and went to the bathroom.

It always came second to short-lived bliss; self-loathing.

Staring at his own reflection in the mirror, he felt like ripping his face apart. He wanted -no- he _needed_ the miserable guy in the mirror to jump out of it and battle him to death.

He wanted to feel worth again. To feel like life is more than just his imagery or his visions or those white dunes of sand or the person who graced his sleepless nights.

He wished dawn will come, and then leave without a fight.

At mornings like these, he wished that undefeatable loneliness would just go away for a walk. But it is also lonely, and so it would stick with you, defying everything you ever thought knew about yourself.

Such a pitiful thing.

Few hours and people would be awake, succumbing to the necessities of a life they weren't even living.  
A little space for himself was never a bad idea, and thus he walked out to the balcony, cigarettes and a lighter hidden in his underwear.

Everything was quite, and the only sound he could hear was the breeze, playing tunes offhandedly.

Lighting his first cigarette for that day, he thought about what's going to come. School was over, and he almost ended up repeating it all if not for his father's last minute input.

Tobirama Senju is going to enjoy those top notch cigars for the end of summer.

But his father-If there's something this man was good at, it was at leaving him hanging.

He had said absolutely nothing after he got the phone call from the school, informing him of his son's over the top vandalism. He didn't do anything. He never did anything. He just stared at him, and said that guests are arriving soon to congratulate him on graduating.

Gaara hated it all. He hated the party and the attendants and the facades and the gossip and the poll to decide his future. He hated how his father transformed completely in front of them; from a neglectful, obsolete father to a loving, mindful and concerned one.

They were all lairs. They all participated in butchering small parts of their children every day they weren't there; they all smiled at him and wished him success while their faces trickled poison.

But that wasn't only it. That wasn't the end of a night he came to despise.

A person was there as well, along with all those frauds. _That_ person. He entered the room like he always did; as if he owned everything and everyone.

People thought the two of them were catching up. "Old friends", they'd say, blissfully unaware of the history shared between their bodies.

"Oh, I hope my son teaches yours how to handle it out there. Lord knows it's pretty tough for a young man like him."

Those words tickled his ears like the insufferable noises of a fly. He listened to them. They both listened to the same words, repeated over and over again, unconsciously bringing back memories he long since suppressed.

How can he blame them though? They're already in a utopia so far away from his.

But all those were fine. Everything was fine until he made the stupidest decision of his life.

This morning… it was him trying to duplicate a few moments that seemed so eternal- so endless and unreal.

But today was another life, and that person was only a page, full of incoherent scratches and scribbles; a page he still knows how to read. Therefore, the page needs to be ripped.

Gaara stomped his cigarette angrily on the marble rail. If there is someone who deserved all this loathing, it was him.

_Weak_… the way he allowed himself to be easily pushed against the wall, figuratively and literally.

How he didn't move; how his body succumbed to the aroma of highly alert nerves.

Weak because he let something as longing take over him all over again after he battled so hard to free himself of its clutches.

Weak because even now, all he could think about was that he would do it every night with the same eyes watching him.

How worthless.

Reaching inside his underwear to fetch another cigarette, he noticed the white pack. The brand read: _Seven Stars. _

He snorted. When did this become his choice for a smoke?

This consequently lead him to wonder about another boy; someone more pleasant and kind. Someone who made him feel genuinely comfortable. **  
**

And as if his thoughts emitted some kind of sign, his cellphone peeped from inside, warning him that it was against his nature to think of anybody in such a fond manner.

But it was also odd, because rarely if ever he received any calls.

Seeing a number under Temari's name, he frowned; when has she become a morning person.

Against his better judgment, he answered.

"_I knew you'd be awake."_

"No shit."

"_So how are you?" _

He rolled his eyes. "Did you really call for this now?"

His sister chuckled._ "No actually. I want you to tell your father I'm not coming today. I'm kind of stuck here." _

Gaara leaned against the rail. "Why don't you tell him yourself?"

"_You know I'm not on best terms with him."_

"No, that honor would go to his newspaper."

Temari snickered._ "Just tell him I'll follow you guys to that Whirl-shit when I'm done with my mess here." _

"OK."

"_Hey Gaara… you know- why we're going there?" _

"I don't care; I'm merely tagging along."

She snorted._ "If I didn't know you any better I'd say you're telling the truth. The Gaara I know is no tag along; you must be going there for a reason."_

He shrugged mentally, the movement transmitting to his words. "If there's any reason at all then it must be my need for a change of scenery."

Though not sounding convinced the least, she took his word for it._ "But anyway, your father must be up for something. When did we ever go the countryside in summer, huh? The last time we went on a _picnic_ was five years ago. how come now all this changes?" _

Gaara couldn't help but agree, though a part of him still didn't care. "Don't fret over it, Temari."

"_Don't tell me what to fret over." _she said, obviously pissed._ "You know better than I do he's ready to sell us for a good deal of money. I need to know what I'm getting myself into."_

"If I didn't know you any better I'd say you're scared."

She probably caught on his attempt at a quarrel, as she scoffed in a way only a Sabaku would manage._ "The only thing I'm scared about is your health after I see you. I'm not comfortable about a plan out of the blue, from your father no less. Do you think he's probably gotten himself a deal there?" _

"I could care less." he repeated himself to her, hoping she would stop nagging.

"_Why won't you search for an answer with me?" _she asked, irritated.

"I just answered that. Goodbye Temari."

As he made it to hang up, he heard her voice calling again. _"Hey hey, wait." _he placed the phone back on his ear._ "What kind of clothes I need to bring there?" _

He recalled Naruto telling him something about hot days and cold nights, and thought a little fun won't hurt."The day is twenty-four hot; you don't have to bring any jackets."

"_Got it. See you there."_

As the sun climbed up the sky, life began throbbing in the Sabaku household, and Gaara retreated back to his room.

It wasn't as dark or blue anymore after he pulled the long, heavy curtains of the window -which also served as a glass door to the balcony- apart, permitting sun light to penetrate his cave, but it was still as grim and empty as ever.

He had the smallest room, and claimed it the moment this house was written as theirs.  
It was shaped like a dome with rough edges; his bed was in the middle, a nightstand and a messy desk on either side of it while a relatively big closet was a little to the east.  
The fuzzy carpet was indigo in color, the walls grey and inert. He had no pictures or paintings hung on it, only mottled shelves for some of the books he'd read. And there were no windows except for the tall glass door.  
Nobody was allowed in it; no nosy siblings, no reproaching fathers, not even cleaning ladies.

However, he made sure to keep it clean and neat as most of his activities took place here. Even though they were going to leave this house for a while, he desperately needed to change the sheets.

In fact, he wanted to throw everything ever touched by that person out of the room; which meant all and everything he possessed.

Even his own clothes didn't feel like his.

And so he started.

Gaara went down stairs, followed by his brother's puzzled eyes, and fetched some screwdrivers of varying sizes along with a wrench and other tools from the kitchen.

"What are you going to do?"

He didn't answer and headed back to his room.

Beginning with the bed, Gaara disjointed the wooden pieces and piled them outside his chamber, followed by sheets and pillows. He then took a chair and climbed it to reach for few bags collecting dust at the top of his closet.

Turning to his nightstand, he pulled the drawers out and emptied all contents in the bags, leaving absolutely nothing but dust inside. He stopped upon reaching to the final drawer. It was locked.

He surveyed the room with his eyes, as if the key would wave to him. He knew he'll be wasting time searching around for it, so he didn't. Instead, he proceeded to bare the room of everything that secretly broke him.

When he finished, it was time for the hardest task; dismantling the closet. Making sure that it won't create a problem, he looked in the telephone book for the number of those men who helped put the same closet together.

They promised to be there in forty minutes or less.

His father stopped him after the call ended. "What are you doing?"

Gaara matched his father's stern expression. "I'm cleaning my room, like you said."

"Does that include calling a delivery service?" the man asked tersely.

"For the type of cleaning I'm doing, yes."

His father took a look around the now mostly empty room before shifting his attention back to him. "What type of cleaning?"

"I'm getting rid of things I don't need."

"And that includes even your bed?"

"I decided to buy a new mattress when we come back. No bed."

His father glanced at him questioningly. "You don't want a bed?"

"No,"

The man sighed after a long moment and uncrossed his arms, disapproval written all over his face. "To each his own. I suggest this mess outside your room be gone as soon as possible."

"It will."

Throwing one last glimpse his way, the man sauntered out of the room.

He allowed himself to inhale new air, and smile. Perhaps talking with Temari had given him some vigor.

* * *

While going through his clothes, Gaara had found the key to the locked drawer; he contemplated -rather dumbly in his opinion- whether he should open it or not. He eventually did, and secured the few crummy trinkets inside his pajama pockets.  
Now that there was only a carpet in the room, he went down to the backyard, where he worked on creating what would be his fire festival.

The men arrived, and he helped them remove the closet from his room and all other things that looked fairly new, in their words.  
He got himself a good deal out of it all, earning some money enough to buy him few articles of clothes and a whole carton of cigarettes.

Gaara returned to the backyard, matchbox and a bottle of lighter fluid in hand.

Taking out the junk previously hidden in the drawer from his pockets, he added them to the pile without bothering a glance and set fire in the mountain of things he is no longer allowed to even think about.

No sooner than he threw them, flames writhed around the wood, the plastic, the woolen bracelets and the memories. It shivered when the remnants of his bed crackled under it but balanced once the wood burned out.

He could see his brother and father watching him from the corner of his eye, but he didn't care; this foreign kind of heavenly relief washed over him. Inside him was also something he threw into the festival, to be eaten by flames.

He ripped that page, and this time, he was certain if it ever crossed him again, he'll not be afraid of reading it.

Gaara was not the type to anticipate things, but he couldn't wait to ride in the car and head to Whirlpool.

* * *

Sabaku Daichi sat on his lavish, vanilla colored sofa, clad in his white bath robes and holding his sleek girlfriend between his hands, letting go every now and then to sip his cup of tea or suck on his cigar, puffing smoke in its face.

The perfect image of aristocracy.

More times than not, Gaara found the scene to be heavily amusing. He'd observe his father's streaked body; how he controls the language it speaks and stripes it down to numbers. And how, in moments of unawareness, he'd let it slip, and that's when Gaara's amusement would really settle.

There are few things this man had taught him, and he wouldn't feign enough abhorrence to say they didn't come in handy through his life time.

One of them was to have utmost command of his body. In other words, lie to the whole world about your true emotions using a language not many cared to learn or even understand.

But now, this man, in the comfort of his own home, unwittingly handed his son the secrets of his most inner being.

He was a little nervous, as he had forgotten to light his cigar three times now and held the newspaper differently. His eyes skimmed absent-mindedly through the pages, not really reading or paying attention.

Was he trying to hide something? Probably.

Did he wish to keep it hidden? Likely not, as he would take discreet glimpses at his sons, trying to understand their expressions and perhaps find the right moment to speak.

Gaara on his part kept his face inscrutable while Kankuro, sitting cross-legged on the brown leather couch facing him, was busy reading through one of his engineering textbooks and matching whatever he found inside with papers above papers of designs and sketches.

His father was becoming impatient by the minute, and Gaara felt not one ounce of guilt for not initiating a conversation as the man leafed through the newspaper, hoping he'd fool himself into forgetting his discomfiture.

Seeing as his disposition for today was unusually bouncy, Gaara got up from where he was on the couch and walked to the small piano on the far end of the huge living room.

He wiggled his fingers, searching his mind for an upbeat tune; something cynical; something fun that will manage to get on his father's poor nerves.

Something like…

Gaara, finding the exact piece he wanted to play, began tapping lightly over the dusty keys, the jaunty notes filling the room and the lively tune awarding him with a stiff twist of the neck in which his father turned around to glance at him bemusedly.

He's probably wondering when in the hell his son decided to grace his fingers over the piano's keys. However, the man instantly regained his posture, clearing his throat. "Cut this music off, Gaara."

After hitting a sharp note, he descended down to a more sullen one, reverting to another piece completely. "Is this the kind of music you like?" he asked, voice matching the somber tone of the music.

"I don't like any kind of music. Cut it off."

Gaara didn't listen, going back to the first piece, feeling as if objects in the living room were moving along with the music he was playing; or his father's anger, he didn't know which. "But why father, music is the medicine of the soul."

His father stood up rigidly, flames of irritation discharging from his eyes. "If you don't cut this right now, you will be punished."

He hit another sharp note, smirking wryly. "By what, no pocket money for a month?"

"You will not be allowed to visit Whirlpool with us."

His fingers inadvertently ceased their playful dancing across the keys and his shoulders slumped down. It was one of those moments when his body language matched his emotions. But what were those emotions, he didn't know.

The living room's furniture returned courteously to its place, and he rose from his seat, bowing elegantly to his visible and not so visible audience. "I was merely trying to entertain."

Making sure to fill it with as much distaste and enmity as possible, he threw his father one more glare before ascending the stairs to his room.

"What was that about?" He heard Kankuro ask and he snorted.

A small piece of his revenge, what it was, was.

* * *

Fetching a towel and a set of clean clothes, Gaara made his way to the bathroom, vexed beyond reason.

Starting the shower, he took off his clothes before testing the water. When it was hot enough, he stepped under it, succumbing to the warmth that invaded his body.

Squeezing enough shampoo in his palm, Gaara started tousling his hair, scratching in needless aggressiveness at his scalp, hoping it would take the twelve ways he came up with to murder his father away.

The overly sweet scent of the shampoo annoyed him greatly and he made to rinse it off his head.  
Letting the foam and the water wash over his face, he closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cold tiles.

His heart was beating faster than it should.

Gaara's knees crumbled under him, and he attempted to stand up straight before giving up immediately and tumbling down to the shower's cold floor. Drawing his knees to his face, he buried his head between them, feeling utterly powerless.

Confusion, perplexity, bemusement; those were all things that made him feel disabled, weak, and impotent. Whenever he'd experience episodes of puzzlement, when it came to his own emotions, Gaara tended to feel a sort of crippling weakness.

Water drops trickled down his arched back, reminding him that it will eventually get cold and that he should continue to clean himself. He paid it no heed, raising his head a little to peer at the wall.

Nothing.  
Inside him was nothing. There was emptiness in a place he knew so well but did not visit. That emptiness he ignored for so long and still does; that hole, so black and endless and _terrifying. _

How come his father knew how to strike the right string? Why was it the _right_ string?

Why did going to Whirlpool matter all that much? He shouldn't care. He _doesn't _care whether they took him with them or not.

_I'll go there alone anyway._

Gaara smacked his forehead against his knee, and smacked it again, wanting to feel pain. Wanting to get hold of whatever tangibility left of him before it evaporated with the steam.

He was so perilously close to acknowledge his feelings and yet he wished they'd just disappear. It was the same as wishing to remain weak and helpless. However, those feelings did not peter, and they all culminated to one thing; to one person.

And… Why did seeing Uzumaki Naruto once again matter this much?

It didn't matter but it _did_. It did so much that he started pulling at his hair, feeling the disbelief splitting him in half.

But no matter how many times he thwacked his head, no matter how many hairs he pulled, there was a song inside him and it drove him crazy.

It drove him crazy because he didn't know how to explain the lyrics of what was happening inside him and that was _unacceptable_ for someone like him; it was wrong to not know how you feel about something. It was wrong and stupid and _unlike him._

But that was also not the day to lose his mind, and so he turned off the shower, stepping outside to slip inside his favorite pair of jeans and a plain black shirt.

Naruto's memory usually calmed him in a way incomprehensible to him, but this time, the same person was much more than that boy he skipped classes and smoked with. This time, he acknowledged that Naruto was his one and only friend.

He didn't understand how such person managed to climb to a high chair like that, but it seems he did. Weirdly enough, the notion itself switched him to a more serene state and he gripped the hairdryer, making it to mangle the water out of his hair.

It was such an odd feeling.

* * *

Next day, so early at five am, they stood outside their house, bags and stock for the road trip all prepared. Kankuro loaded everything in the car and proceeded to beg their father to allow him the honor of driving it.

The grumpy man turned him down and got into the driver's seat, a smug look in his face, reminiscent of a kid whose parents bought him his dream toy.

What a childish man, Gaara thought.

Kankuro grouched and mumbled under his breath, seemingly begrudged; he got in the car eventually, fiddling with his jacket's zipper and mussing his hair only to check it again in the window glass. He was probably as impatient as Gaara was; for different reasons, of course.

His heart was betraying him once again; so blatantly this time, mainly because now, he's well aware of the reason behind its irrational pulsing.

He pondered a little about the future as he took the car's backseat, securing his headphones in place and slouching on the leather seat, glaring at the rising sun before closing his eyes.

"How long is it gonna take to get there?" Kankuro's voice sounded, incensed.

"At least six hours."

"Where the heck is this Whirlpool anyway?"

"It's a little far away from the city."

"I can tell!"

"If you don't stop whining then go there by train; you'll arrive three hours sooner and save us the pains of accompanying you." their father replied stringently.

Gaara, eyes still closed, furrowed his brow; maybe _he _should have taken the train instead of having to listen to their bickering for the upcoming hours. Alas, he threw the navy green hoodie of his jacket over his head and turned the music up, hoping it would drown their voices.

Alanis Morissette distinct, rather annoying voice singing Hand in My Pocket filled his ears, and Gaara wondered for the umpteenth time throughout his life why he liked this song.  
It seemed fitting for the countryside, though.

'_cause I've got one hand in my pocket_

_And the other one is flicking a cigarette_

He's going to 'flick' the world.

The rest of the song's words, however, reminded him of someone; someone who seemed like a lemon coated candy; someone who acted all tough and cheery but who was plagued by so many troubles.

_Naruto… _

What was that chicken-shit doing anyway?

Gaara found himself inattentively imagining the other's face upon seeing him. The boy seemed fairly excited about spending the summer together, even though Gaara himself had no idea why they were heading there in the first place, and what were his father's intentions for taking them with him.

Where are they going to stay? Did his father rent a house or something? Are they going to stay at someone's place?

A place so naturally lavish like Whirlpool was undeniably a treat. But why?

He had given up on the idea of a business trip since he'd noticed the man's uncharacteristic fidgeting and unreasonable anger, pinpointing the fact that if something worried his father, it must be human interaction that required a level of intimacy of some sort; human connection that did not prompt professionalism.

Something way beyond his father's goldfish capabilities.

It must be something concerning another human being. Maybe a woman? Or perhaps a man? He didn't know which that block of wood preferred.

But he was also going for the sole reason of seeing another human being, and he was also quite nervous about it, so they were basically on the same boat for now.

Going back, he really focused on the thought of the blond boy and in which way they're going to spend the summer. How is he going to feel comfortable about all these new-found emotions concerning their so-called 'friendship'?

Gaara felt most content with neutral feelings towards everything, and he's proud to say he had excelled at it for the most part but then that guy had to come and ruin his preconceptions about pretty much everything.

Recalling that moment he so foolishly took the other's hand in his own. Why did he bother? He shouldn't have but he did. For a moment there, it was as painful to him as it was to Naruto; to feel so self-inclined and obliged despite not being told to.

_I'm not certain… _this became the phrase he used the most when it came to the blond. It was unlike him to be unsure about his needs and wants. He'd always known what he wanted, what path to take, and what route to dig; but with that guy, all of these marked things were different.

Did he really want to be held by Naruto that afternoon? But it sounded so _ridiculous_. Why was it so easy for Naruto to make him so… so unaware?

It scared him.

Being unaware was bad. Being inattentive was worse. Not keeping check on your reactions, retorts, and your manner of speaking were all things Naruto managed to bring out.

Another Gaara seemed to emerge to life solely for him.

What if he became a totally different person? What if he could barely grasp what's left of him? What if he didn't feel like himself anymore?

Naturally, he'd be kicking in outrage, fighting for something that now seemed so insignificant in the face of Naruto's wide, moronic smiles.

Gaara meandered on the leather seat, raising the volume even higher, propelling himself to visit a place where, for the meantime, Naruto didn't exist.

* * *

"Gaara," somebody pushed his shoulder. "Gaara wake up, we're here. We're in Whirlpool."

He opened his eyes groggily, seeing Kankuro's figure positioned awkwardly over him, his legs outside the car.

Pushing Kankuro's face away from his line of vision, Gaara sat upright, staring out of the car's open door to where his father stood. His brother stepped out of the car and he followed, only to find himself standing in the middle of nowhere.

True, they were in a completely isolated area, car parked on the side of a road lined with a long, endless stream of trees. There was no one in sight, and he wondered if they were really in Whirlpool or the setting of a cheesy horror film.

Either way, his father turned around to face them, signaling for them to join him across the dusty blacktop road. The two of them complied, overpassing the empty street and standing next to their worn-out father.

"What now?" Kankuro asked impatiently.

Their father looked around, surveying the area once more. "We're waiting for someone."

And as if on cue, a rusty, faded-blue truck appeared in the distance; a long arm popped out of the window and waved to them enthusiastically. His father waved back, a smile Gaara had never seen before drawn on his normally unimpressed face.

So he wasn't wrong; it _was_ about another human being.

The truck stopped in front of them, and a woman emerged; her long hair, the color of a red dawn, was enough to turn the eyes of a whole court of uninterested men.

She smiled brightly, reminding him greatly of the way Naruto smiled. The woman skipped to them, holding out her arms widely. "Daichi!"

His father mimicked the gesture and walked leisurely to her, enveloping the woman in his arms. "Kushina, dear, how are you?"

She laughed, wrapping her arms around him in return. "I'm fine, I'm great. How are _you_?"

Gaara watched the exchange, and the new, unfounded intimacy this usually cold and detached man was showing. He watched as they parted, kissing each other's cheeks and smiling coyly like teenagers in love.

He almost felt like gagging.

Daichi cleared his throat, probably noticing the awkwardness as both his sons stood idly behind the two, not knowing if they should be there or not.

"Kushina, those are my sons." he gestured to them, and she followed his gaze, dark blue eyes settling on them. "Boys, this is Kushina, a dear friend of mine."

_Kushina _sauntered to them, her long dress fluttering in the wind, her long hair straying in the horizon, giving her this indiscernible holy relic. She wasn't a tall one, nor was she short; she was at the exact right height and proportions any man could ever wish for a woman to have.

"Hello," she greeted, her smile lessening not. The woman struck her hand, holding it out to Kankuro. His brother took it, a stunned expression adorning his dumb face. "You must be Kankuro."

His brother continued to frantically shake her hand. "Woah, you're hot…"

The woman used her free hand to scratch the back of her head sheepishly, sticking out her tongue like a rowdy child.

"Watch your language Kankuro." their father reproached sternly, arms folded.

Kushina waved a hand dismissively. "It's okay, nobody complimented me in a long time." she glanced at him as Kankuro continued to shake her hand. "And you must be Gaara."

He nodded, not knowing any other way to answer such an obvious question.

She let go of his brother's hand and walked to him. "I've been lookin' forward to meeting ya, especially after bein' told you're the family's redhead." she leaned down on his ear and whispered. "Not many people have the privilege of red hair; we're lucky shotas."

The woman winked playfully, and then turned back to his father. "Get in your car, Daichi; I'll drive me truck and lead you to the house."

His father nodded, heading to the car while Kushina headed back to her old truck. Gaara seized the opportunity and asked to ride in with her; she zealously agreed, ushering him inside the small vehicle.

Kankuro shot him a puzzled glance and he ignored it, finding this to be a better time for investigation.

Following him inside, Kushina started her truck, reeling it backwards and heading back to where she came from.

As she drove, chatting away at nothing, Gaara observed this figure; this person.  
Her moves, her reactions, her excitement, and her manner of speaking, -albeit a bit different and heavier- were so reminiscent of someone else. Almost as if they were copied.

"Ne Gaara," she started. "I heard you're in the same school as my son. Do you know him? Uzumaki Naruto, unruly blond hair, blue eyes, easily spotted in a crowd."

Gaara shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know him."

She looked disappointed, but smiled anyway. "Then I bet you two will get along just fine. He's your age, ya know?"

He knew so well it hurt.

Why?  
Why did he lie about something as normal and trivial as knowing someone?

It was in no way a thoughtful retort, nor did he for a second mull over her question. It came out, so simply and dumbly that he wondered if his subconscious had something to hide.

Was the reality of knowing that woman's son worth concealing or denying? But again, meeting Naruto, at times, felt like it happened in another life.

Was this the _real_ life? But if Kushina existed in this one, then Naruto must've had existed as well, and all the days they'd spent together were more than real.

When Gaara suddenly recalled the feel of Naruto's fingers entwined with his, he knew that it was so surrealistically real and true, even though those times still felt as if they were from another timeline altogether.

He scoffed internally. Was he really that unable to comprehend reality? Was he really referring to meeting Naruto with something akin to a dream?

"We're here."

Kushina's voice pulled him out of his head, prompting him to look outside the window and see one of the -if not _the_- most beautiful place in his life.

"That's me house up there." she pointed with her finger to said house, barely visible behind all the gigantic trees surrounding it.

Beside them was a large vineyard that seemed to have only a beginning and no end; one large, slightly ajar iron gate marked the entrance, adorned with one symbol; a red swirl.

Gaara stared out of the window in awe, marveling at the air's scent of soil and pine, and the cool breeze that fiddled carelessly with their hearts.

No wonder that one fervent of a jungle man Naruto treasured this place as much as he did. It was absolutely majestic.

But there was no time to be enamored. He needed to move and warn Naruto as fast as possible, even though he had no clue from what; it was this urge inside him to find the other and slap him with all the new-found information he'd managed to collect from both their parents.

And so, he took Kushina's permission to cross the vineyard as a way to reach the house. "Of course you can!" she said. "We'll round the land and get to the main entrance so your da could park his car."

His '_da'_ was the least of his worries for now.

Gaara got off the car, jogging to the iron gate and pushing it lightly enough to fit between the tall doors and get inside.  
He then heard Kushina's voice call loudly behind him. "If you found Naruto, then call him in."

He _was_ going to find Naruto, and he was going to thwack their heads together until this reality turned into a mere dream again.

Darting through the mazes of the vineyard, Gaara's eyes searched around frantically, his heart on a race with his footsteps as they dug holes in the tender soil. Feeling almost desperate, he peeked with his head over the vines, and there he saw it; a shock of yellow hair that was impossible not to notice.

Although his heart continued to throb faster than he'd like to, it calmed considerably at the sight of Naruto just few vines away, thoroughly unaware of another's presence so close to him.

Gaara compelled his legs to walk slower with each step until he was behind Naruto. The blond boy was smoking, gray threads floating over his head and creating a sort of aura around him.

Sauntering closer, he watched as Naruto hastily flung his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it and flinging his arms around to get rid of the smoke.

Did he think Gaara was someone else?

Naruto glanced around, and when their eyes met, the other's face became quite pale, as if a spaceship just landed behind him. He stepped closer, and stared the other right in the eye, saying the one thing that came to mind. "We're in deep shit."

* * *

He stood there, having to watch as Naruto walked in circles, pulled at his hair and spoke in a language worse than gibberish.

"Gods, why are you doing this to me?" the blond plead to the heavens, his blue eyes reflecting an infantile kind of sorrow. "Is it because I don't pray? 'Cause I promise I will if this's just a joke."

Gaara pinched the bridge of his nose, finding no time for this kind of entreaty. "What a marvelous time to be religious."

Naruto fell to his knees, raising his arms dramatically to the sky. "She knows your father! My _mother_ is your father's _dear_ _friend_! Your _father_, of all people! Why is this earth so fucking small?!" he shouted, head thrown back, mouth agape.

He contemplated telling the other how pathetic he looked, but stopped when Naruto glanced at him, face wistful. "Kill me right here and end my miserable life."

Gaara sighed. "You should take acting classes."

"I should take **fuck me** classes!"

After more floundering, weltering in the dirt, and yelling, Naruto was up on his feet, dusting his overalls and hair. "What should we do?" he murmured drearily, facing away from Gaara.

"Nothing," he replied. "We're strangers, and that's as much as they know; nothing needs to be done."

Naruto looked at him, frenetic eyes searching his for a more reassuring answer, as if Gaara had it. "But why didn't you tell her that you knew me?"

He sighed again, not happy with the way this conversation –to even call it one- was heading. "Don't rummage through sand for more sand, Naruto. You're as much a lair as I am. Act upon my statement and nothing will change."

The blonde's expression turned one of furiousness. "How could you say that?" he asked, exasperated. "How could you think nothing will change if I acted like I don't know you?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Because you don't know me, Naruto; it's like meeting each other for the first time, and that's how we should act."

Naruto's arms fell limply to his sides, melancholy apparent on his face. "Maybe… maybe I don't know you like you said, but what I _do_ know is that I don't want to act like I've never met the small part of you I'm familiar with."

The conversation was stirring in the exact way he didn't want it to, and he wished to end it as soon as possible. "Your mother is expecting us; we'll talk inside, okay?"

Naruto nodded, but made no attempt at moving. He was losing what little patience and tolerance he had for the day and walked past the blond boy, noticing how the other avoided any physical contact with him by stepping further to the side.

It was confusing, to leave Naruto –his friend- hanging like this, and it annoyed him more than it should have. He truly wished to relieve Naruto of this, but he had no way of knowing how; he, himself, was lost in a blizzard of his own set of unanswered questions.

* * *

Upon arriving at the house, Gaara was glad nobody paid them much attention except for his father who looked Naruto up and down before declaring the boy greatly resembled his mother.

Kushina took their bags to the rooms they were going to occupy, advising them to take a bath and rest until she wakes them for dinner, and they all agreed.

He did not see Naruto until later that evening, when they all huddled around the kitchen's table as Kushina dotted it with food.

It amazed him how well the other played his role. The blond sat there, not overly polite, but still mannerly enough to paint the picture of the good son with a perpetual smile placed so perfectly on his face.  
He chatted, emphasizing his words with his arms, palms, and even managed to attract the attention of their father.

Gaara knew how carefully that face had been crafted, and he thanked Naruto inwardly for holding up to the challenge and following on his lie. However, that did not, in any way, erase his deep discomfort for the night.

To him, their parents' 'friendship' seemed much more than that. He knew they were dating; he also knew Naruto was well aware of that fact. Anyone with a half-functioning brain could tell if they attended that night's dinner.

However, said night continued normally and the dinner was undeniably wonderful, presenting a nice change for their family's routine of either take-outs or maid-cooking.

He had long since forgotten what it's like to have a woman in the house; a home without a woman is no home at all.

When all were done and finished, they headed to their rooms, Kushina asking Naruto to help him and Kankuro settle in. The boy nodded, and the two of them followed him as he walked through the long hallways of the one-story house.

Naruto talked with Kankuro all the way, thoroughly ignoring Gaara's presence, and when they arrived to the brothers' shared room, he faked a smile, bidding them goodnight before disappearing out of the room, leaving the door open for the hallway's faint blue light to illuminate the chamber.

He couldn't sleep. He didn't _want_ to sleep. So, Gaara spent the night staring out of the window at Kankuro's bedside, wondering about the validity of his choice to lie.

Why did they have to act indifferent and unfamiliar towards each other as if they've done something unacceptable?  
Why did he think they were in deep shit? He shouldn't have thought so, and he shouldn't have cared; but somehow, he found the fact of their parents knowing each other, less so dating, to be immensely bothersome and unsettling.

It created a sort of pillar between him and Naruto.

Gaara wanted to break that pillar, and the only way to do it was to break whatever thing their parents had going on. It was the only way to safeguard and preserve something he's yet to understand fully.

The only way to complete his revenge and feel in control again.

* * *

Notes:  
Again, thanks for everyone who favored and followed this; gave me strength to write this chapter.

If you were wondering, Kushina's blue truck is a 1953 Ford F-100. I thought it fit her, 'nuff said.

I'm not going so far as to say the masturbation scene was hot. It wasn't. I mostly tried to make it seem uncomfortable as Gaara, himself, wasn't comfortable.  
And a cookie for whomever guesses who_ that_ person is.

This chapter should not have taken as long as it did. I'm afraid it was filled with inconsistencies for lack of said consistency in writing it; some parts were written two months ago, some recently, some deleted then added. So yeah.  
However, next chapter will follow Temari's little adventure as she arrives to Whirlpool and meets this mysterious stranger!

I'd like to ask- do you have any songs that remind you of this pairing? Maybe a phrase or a quote or certain lyrics? I might start adding those as I see fit to the beginning of each chapter. Till next one, lovelies~


	4. Sunglasses in the Dark

_Of Cigarettes and Grape Vines_

_~chapter four~_

**Sunglasses in the Dark**

* * *

The lights flickered in sync with the chugging of the train, and she watched as the world passed by her in complete darkness. Unable to make out the view, she went back to leafing through the book in her hands, not at all in the mood for reading.

Her last week in collage was by far the worst she'd ever had. She tried to stay positive and impassive through it all but sometimes staying calm proved harder than she'd thought.  
She ended up throwing some tantrums, undergoing fits of madness and incomprehensible screams.

They begged her to leave.

When their father suggested a visit to the countryside, she agreed, albeit dubious, to go and open an outlet to her anger. Maybe shout on top of a mountain or kick some logs.

The world was such a mystery to her, and life manifested itself in the corners of said mystery. She has yet to encounter a corner that seemed welcoming. The world was mean and unmoved by her pleas, and she found it increasingly hard to accept her lack of fortune and move on.

She sighed, glancing around discreetly. An old man caught her glimpse and winked in what he probably thought was seductive; he then stuck out his tongue, and rolled it in small circles, all the while jerking off an invisible penis.

Cringing, she trained her eyes back on the book, still feeling _his_ eyes burning holes in her back.

Finally when the train halted, and she spotted the large neon sign that read: Welcome to Whirlpool, Temari gathered her things as fast as possible and descended down, hoping that life had a corner to spare where dirty old men didn't exist.

For some reason, she glanced back to see the man throwing her kisses, doing the exact same motions he did mere minutes ago. She was glad when an old woman behind him smacked his head with her burse, resulting in the man giving the old lady the finger, which she returned in such style. The train moved back into motion before Temari could witness the rest of their quarrel.

In a way, however, she was not happy when the chilly air slapped her bare legs and shoulders like tiny paper-cuts and jabbed at her face like a bucket filled with snow.

Gaara was going to pay for this with his balls.

The train station, to say the least, was a very simple place. Two platforms on either side of the railroad, made by stones meticulously pressed next to each other; small, granite cottages built on the far ends of the podium, hedged by tree branches.

Red, erratically placed lampposts adorned the platform, lighting the way for her. Although it was veiled in complete darkness, she could make the shapes of the high hills that surrounded the place like giant, faceless monsters.

Spotting a lonely wooden bench under the neon sign, Temari approached it while pulling out her cellphone, making it to call one of her brothers. Sitting down, she dialed Gaara's number.

There was no signal.

Temari grunted indignantly. Her luck was as bright as ever.

She looked around, searching for anyone in sight despite knowing full well she isn't going to ask for their help. It was something so innate in her, not seeking interaction, but still wishing for the presence of other people.

However, looking again, she could almost make out a glint in the darkness few feet away from her bench. Temari squinted hard enough to make out the shape of something, severed in half and floating in the air.

She tilted her head, not sure if what she's seeing was a living thing.

"Can I help you with something?"

Temari opened her mouth a little, and then closed it. "I thought you were a ghost."

"I could be a ghost."

She scoffed, returning back to her unsuccessful dialing attempts. After a long moment of wondering why this world continued to hate her, Temari, still sensing the stranger's presence, faced towards the low humming noise said stranger was making. "Where can I get a-"

"A signal?" he renewed. "You can't. Not here."

Not pleased with _his _interruption, -as the voice definitely belonged to a male- Temari shifted her attention to the empty rail below the platform. Then suddenly, she was engulfed in darkness when the bright neon sign that lit over her head seconds ago gave out.

The only light now was the faint one emitting from the lampposts. It illuminated the rail, giving the trees and cottages in both sides an eerie feel, adorning them with fluttering shadows.

The moon was blotted by clouds, adding to the dread of this place.

Temari checked her phone's clock, and found it to be way past yesterday. She consoled herself that it was quite early when she boarded the train, and thus it was far from it being her fault for arriving at such a late hour.

If you could call two in the morning a late hour, anyway.

Compelling herself into patience, Temari pulled her pack of cigarettes from her bag in an attempt to forget the unfriendly coldness that continued to assault her body through her thin layer of clothes.

"You smoke?" the stranger asked, seconds after she lit her first smoke for the day.

Her lips formed a smirk around the cigarette. "It's quite obvious I do."

"I see. Why do you smoke?"

Temari scoffed. "The real, very dire question is: Did I, in a way, do something with my body to _invite _you?" she paused, searching in the silence for a reaction. "Or did I give you a cue to continue this conversation?"

"Then I suppose one requires a permission to speak with you?"

Taking a long, satisfying drag of her cigarette, she answered. "Stranger do, yes."

"Then can I speak with you?"

Temari scratched her brow. "What is it that you want?"

"I just want to talk with you."

She thoughtlessly passed over his answer. "Listen here buddy, I have one thin hair that stands between calm and furious, and I think the robe you're playing on is rather loose."

"But I've found myself balancing rather stably on the loose robe you've just mentioned."

She threw her head back, vision filled with the black sky above her. "What next, you're gonna recite some poetry?"

"Do you want me to recite poetry?"

Finding this 'talk' to be going nowhere, she returned to peering at the dimly lit railroad, stepping on the spent cigarette and making it to light another one. It annoyed her how that presence lingered at the side of her glance, still shrouded in darkness and the only thing she could see was the far flickering glint.

It relentlessly peaked at her curiosity, but she made no move to further a conversation or close the distance. And suddenly, the stranger spoke.

"I interest you."

Temari almost burst out laughing. If only there weren't as many delusional people as there actually were, maybe then the world might've given her some attention.

"Are we reenacting some bad movie?" she asked, amused.

"I'm afraid we might, but not yet."

"Sheesh, just drop the act already; I won't judge you or anything." she assured him, not entirely honest.

"But you sound like such a judgmental person." the stranger replied, still speaking calmly.

"And you sound like a pretentious douchebag who probably stands here every night to pick on people, or worse, girls." Temari retorted. "You're some geek who's got no friends and too much time on hand that you have no idea what better things to do than pretend people are interested in you."

A hoarse chuckle sounded from the stranger's spot. "I cannot deny that's exactly what I do, but I must disagree with your rather errant opinion on my douchebaggery." silence ensued before the stranger continued. "I do, in fact, have friends, but what I have the most is too much time on my hand. So, you are not entirely wrong."

Temari peered at where he was standing, hoping she's staring him in the eye. For a while they spoke no words, until she sighed, moving to the bench's far end. "What about you come here? I feel at disadvantage when you're the only one able to see my face."

It took some time before the stranger stepped out of the darkness like some fairy-tale creature, tall and vague-looking, and just as cryptic as his answers.

She snickered. "That's some sense of style you got there."

From what she gathered, people would often glance at their clothes upon hearing such remark, but this one seemingly ignored her comment and approached the bench, sitting beside her and keeping enough distance between them.

She found herself appreciating his sense of space.

"I will take that as a compliment." he said.

Temari snorted. "You should, 'cause that's as far as I'm commenting on this atrocity."

"At least I'm warm."

He reminded –rather harshly- of the unforgiving chilliness. "Asshole." She muttered under her breath, withdrawing smoke from her cigarette, hopefully poking her patience into work once again.

"You're not going to offer me your jacket?" she asked friskily.

"No."

Temari scrunched her face, tapping her cigarette to get rid of the ash. "That was not the answer I hoped for."

"But that's the answer you got."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you socially challenged?"

"As much as anyone is." he replied placidly, maintaining the bothersome air surrounding him.

"You're annoying me."

He leaned against the bench's back, clothed arms at his sides. "But am I burning that thin hair between calm and furious?"

That stranger was beginning to tap on her nerves, but she had learned, as the family marked her tempter from a young age, to enter into a more serene state of mind, in which everything was composed and where she acted a bit more cordial.

Since she'd been more or less in an uncoordinated state for the past week, Temari decided to give herself a break by being a little less harsh on the stranger's ass. "Believe me if you did they won't be able to find your remnants."

"Why? Because there will be nothing left of me when you're done or because you'll hide my corpse some place in the woods?"

"No, I'll be shitting you in a toilet. I tend to eat annoying people."

"So you perceive me as annoying?" he asked, looking at her for the first time since he sat next to her. It didn't matter however as his dark glasses and high collar hid most of his face.

Temari still felt at disadvantage, not given enough visual clues about the other's emotions. His monotone also revealed nothing, which only added to her indisposition.

She answered him anyway, hoping she'd pin him through his words. "I believe you're annoying me on purpose. You enjoy my reactions."

"And you're just as inflexible as you sound when I do so."

Feeling triumphant, Temari leaned back, grinning. "Wanna smoke?"

He shook his head. "I don't smoke."

Pulling a cigarette out of her pack, she urged it towards him. "Maybe you would today? Cigarettes are not very enjoyable when smoked alone. Everybody knows that."

Hesitant, the tall guy took the cigarette from her hand, putting it not in his mouth, but in his pocket. "So you have a mouth there too?" Temari miffed, this time _she_ driving him into a reaction.

The stranger shook his head again. "No, I'm keeping it for later."

Temari sighed, deciding to leave him be. "So what now?" she asked him.

"Now I wish you would let me see, if only for this night."

Even though the words were quite… soulful, they were said in such insipidity that she could not but stare at him with incertitude. "What are you even talking about?"

All of a sudden, the stranger stood up, dusting his ridiculous long coat. "Tell me your destination."

"What?"

"Where are you heading, tell me?" he asked again, not once rising above his equable tone.

Temari started fishing inside her bag for the hastily written address Kankuro gave her. Once she found it between the lipsticks and the tampons and the empty cigarette packs, she stood up as well, handing it to the tall guy.

He hummed. "The Uzumaki residence-that's a long walk."

"There are no cars?" she inquired.

The tall stranger turned to her, handing the small paper back. "No, not in this area. We're not too far from town, but to reach the Uzumaki land we'll have to cross the woods."

"Were those Uzumaki folk some vampire shit?"

"I'm afraid they're still alive and well, but they're a little reclusive, and have a tight net of friends of whom neither I nor my family are part of. I know of no other way there but to cross the woods."

Temari watched as the tall guy jumped off the platform and over the railroad, walking before her to the forest ahead.

"Uh, excuse me, sir. I'm afraid I'm going with you nowhere; into the woods, no less. Very subtle, I must admit." she said, caustic.

He turned around. "Subtle…?"

Temari placed a hand on her hip. "Yes. I mean what would assure me you're not hiding anything under that coat of yours."

He tipped his head forward. "Do I look like I would hide anything?"

"You look like you could _be_ anything, really. Your coat happened to unleash my imagination."

"So I get you wish to go into the woods alone?"

Realizing he might be her only 'current' chance to reach her destination, Temari agreed to his temporary company, though still insisted on rounding up town.

"Anything better than going into a forest with a stranger." she told him, shoving the cigarettes pack and the address paper in her stuffed bag.

It was going to be a long night, -or morning- she just knew.

* * *

"Why is there no goddamn signal?!" Temari shouted to the heavens, holding her currently useless phone in a death grip.

"People are staring at you." the tall guy next to her informed coolly, talking for the first time since they left the station.

She sneered at him. "Do I look like I care?"

"Not right now, no."

"Then don't tell me what to do!" she yelled at him, and he lowered his head, the shadow of his large hoodie concealing what features he allowed the world to see.

Temari looked around them; the area they were crossing was a mess of bars and gas stations, convenient stores and hookers leaning against poles, glancing at passers with half-lidded eyes, their clothes leaving nothing to the imagination.

The neon lights she became accustomed to in this town flashed brightly, defying the darkness of the night and turning the place into one huge lamp.

"Do you want something to drink?" the stranger asked her, pointing out to a relatively decent looking bar ahead of them.

She huffed. "I don't have time to go into bars; I need to reach that damned house."

The stranger, losing none of his composer, pointed once again to a vending machine at one of the gas stations. "Then we could get something from there."

Perhaps a drink wasn't very bad after a trying day, and so she agreed, walking alongside him to the station amidst the nosy-looking people and their inquisitive stares.

As if reading her mind, the stranger spoke. "They're staring because you present another world to them. They find you interesting."

"More like _leering_, and not staring." she told him, folding her arms as if it would protect her from their ravenous eyes. "Anyway, I thought Whirlpool had a fair amount of tourists. Why would I be any different?"

"Why you ask," the tall guy fetched a coin from one of the many pockets in his long coat. "It is because of me."

Before she could ask what he meant by that, he asked her. "Beer?"

Temari shrugged. "Beer is fine."

As if not seeing the designated slit, he rather clumsily slipped two coins in the vending machine and got them both two beer cans, the logo unfamiliar to her. She pointed to the ancient man's face plastered on the can, a dizzying swirl behind his disembodied torso. "What kind of beer is this?"

"It's a Whirlpool beer." he replied.

"Thought so; I've never seen this brand before."

"This man is the one who introduced beer to this town when all it had was wine. He became quite famous after that." he informed her blankly, tapping on the can's surface three times before opening the lid.

Temari found it rather ridiculous to put a man's face on a beer can just because he did something like slaking a town's thirst for a new drink, but she enclosed her fingers around his face as the stranger guided her out of the dazzling lamp, and into a soil, dusty road, overshadowed by a canopy over their heads, formed by the tangled branches of the trees that lined the route. It blocked the moon, but the further they walked inside, the more they were closer to a wan, orange light at the end.

Remembering her destination, Temari thought back to why in the world are they staying in an inhabited house instead of renting a cabana or some other shit. It built an even taller ladder to her suspicions about that man's intentions.

_He better not be up for something,_ she thought, not wishing to be –once again- a pawn on their father's chess board.

Inhaling deeply, she asked her companion, whose presence beside her still resembled that of a loitering phantom. "So who are those Uzumakis anyway?"

The stranger seemed to wait for her to open her can, possibly to indicate she's giving him her full attention. When silence returned, and the only voice heard was their footsteps on the hard soil, he answered. "It is rumored their wine industry is what kept Whirlpool standing as long as it did, and thus it's the reason for much scorn towards them. Three years ago, the mayor attempted an agreement with them, a deal where half their yearly income goes to the town's reconstruction. Due to a long history of shared interests, they agreed."

Temari scoffed, suddenly all the pieces falling in place; their father was absolutely here for business. "Sounds like the old man picked some wealthy people to hang around with. So like him."

"The old man?" the guy inquired, glancing at her.

She shrugged half-heartedly. "I like to think I was born into another family, for another parents, but that old man happens to be my father."

The tall stranger looked up at the sky, the pale moon finally visible through the tangled branches and the leaves. "The world could be very small…"

"What do you mean by that?" she asked him, taking another sip from her beer, actually liking the distinct taste of butter that clung to the back of her throat.

"Why, you ask; it's like the chance of us meeting at the station. You could've met anyone, but you met me, which is the world's way of showing how small yet indiscernible it could be."

Temari pinched her eyebrows. "I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about."

"Me neither." he retorted, and then stopped on his track. "There are few rocks ahead of us, aren't there?"

Following his shaded gaze, Temari found that indeed, there was a small highland at the end of the soil road. At one side, it succumbed under several large rocks that mounted over one another, and on the other side, there seemed to be a set of stairs that led somewhere under the hill.  
She glanced back at him. "I suggest you take off those glasses; aren't they blinding you a little?"

He sauntered past her, and upon reaching the knoll and sitting on of the rocks, he lowered down his hoodie and found his voice. "The only way one would be blind is by not being able to see the beauty of our world."

Temari trotted after him, a smile finding a way to her face at the sight of the smooth, egg-shaped shaven rocks; taken from a river, perhaps?  
Finding a spot higher than the one he occupied, she sat, and peered at the sight the highland overlooked and down at the nearly empty street under the abyss they were apparently on. Does this town have no structure?

"Who the hell designed this place anyway?" she asked, still staring down at the silent neighborhood bellow. "It's such a mess…"

Temari's guide-of-sorts murmured something, and she looked back at him, failing to catch what he's just said. "What?"

He didn't bother to look at her. "Tell me what you see."

She grunted. "Why don't you move your lazy head a bit, maybe then you'll see for yourself."

"Please - just tell me what you see." he solicited, still facing away from her. "What do you see? Describe it."

Although she remained annoyed, Temari found no harm in plainly talking about what she was seeing, especially after his near melancholic tone.  
Sighing, she surveyed the neighborhood, and started transferring what she saw into words. "There… there are tall lampposts alongside the road." she said lamely.

"Have they rusted?" he asked.

"Yeah, a bit; if I look hard enough, I can recognize the old paint; it's peeling." consent ensued as she searched for another thing to describe, the situation becoming increasingly silly for her. "There are houses, and they're pretty much stacked above and next to each other, kinda chaotically." Temari paused. "It's… it's like the houses had been curved inside this sculpted mountain. They almost seem like caves…"

"Do you think it's beautiful?"

"What?"

He repeated. "That scene, the houses; do you think it's beautiful?"

Temari shrugged. "I can't deny they don't have an artistic… feel, about them." she paused, considering the scene more, and heaving a sigh despite herself. This newfound, unbidden sensation filled her. "It _is _beautiful though…"

"Continue."

She stretched her neck closer over the abyss, feeling the blood rush slowly to her head. "It's completely dark accept for the few spots the lampposts are illuminating… not all houses are lit either; I can only see light coming from few windows, and there's also no one in the street. It's almost as if everyone deserted the place."

He didn't round off or conclude her words with a question, he just benched there, rigid like a badly carved sculpture, not looking at her.

"The past's boat, I will sink it, sink it, sink it…" he chanted quietly.

In a moment of pleasant surprise, a wide smile found its way to Temari's face, and she forgot their little game. "You know this song?"

"We were the same salt, and then we drifted, drifted, drifted…" he continued, his hushed voice giving the song a new flavor. "Mind your own, I'll mind my own; the past's boat, I'll sink it…"

He gazed up at her, the long collar of his jacket unzipped and his face was a small bit of light in the bleakness around them. "I do know the song." he said.

Temari grinned at him, glad she's finally able to see his face, albeit with bug glasses for eyes. "Shouldn't we continue walking?"

The tall guy nodded silently, standing up and dusting off his clothes. Making to zip his collar, Temari stopped him. "Don't!"

She feared it came out a little desperate, as he just stared at her, his fingers frozen around the big slider. Temari thus felt the need to ignore the unwitting skip her heart just performed and add a reason to her request. "Don't hide your face behind all the bad fashion; you aren't as unshapely as I thought you'd be."

After a moment that lasted infinitely, he let go of the slider and left his face visible. "Is that better?"

Temari nodded heartily and skipped down the stones. "I'm Temari, by the way. Sabaku Temari." she held out her hand.

He extended his hand as well, but it took him more than few restless seconds to take hers and shake it, all the while a faint smile graced his face. "Shino Aburame."

She grinned. "Nice to meet you, Shino Aburame."

The two then rounded the hill and descended down the narrow, ancient stairs she'd previously noticed and which led to the old neighborhood bellow. At one side there was a wall, overgrown with ivy, and on the other side, there was nothing, but heights did not terrify her.

She drove the tips of her fingers along the granular wall, her hands catching in the wild vines that strayed all over it and her fingers pumping over the prickles.

The two companions hung around the ward, Temari's tongue slipping long enough to describe every corner and spot she saw or noticed, interrupted only by trivial questions. In a little while, Shino's tongue slipped as well, and they talked, made jokes and sang more.

It worried her for a moment that this supposed stranger felt like a stranger no more, but she pushed it to the back of her mind, along with that face on the beer can, the weather's frigidity and the awkwardness.

* * *

"And then some punk stole my bike!" she went on with her story about the agony of losing her precious motorcycle. "I reported to the police department and they wanted me to confirm that the bike was mine! Can you believe this shit? I gave them my number if they ever found it. I swear when I get my hands on that bas-"

Temari's balance wavered and she staggered a little as she laid her eyes on the big one story house that filled her vision. "Fucking god…"

Shino stood next to her, unflinching without his jacket in the face of the dawn's chilliness. "So we arrived."

She nodded dumbly, the jacket's hoodie moving along with her head; eyes fixated on the creepy-looking house and all the trees around it, Temari gaped. "So this is the Uzumaki residence…"

The house and its surroundings basked in the pale rays of the day's first hours of light and she made it to take off the jacket, shrugging it off her shoulders and handing it back to her companion who took it wordlessly.

Taking a deep breath, Temari turned to him with a smile. "Thanks."

"I should be the one thanking you. You were nice most of the way, Temari."

The way he said her name, the finality he uttered it with, an incentive that propelled her to step forward, entering his personal space to plant a kiss on the side of his mouth.

Shino's face remained expressionless, but it didn't frustrate her as his surprise manifested in a large hand that rose to his mouth, finger tips resting where her lips lingered for less than two seconds.

"Goodbye, Shino." she went past him, heading to the house's wooden door. "Oh yeah, I forgot." Temari turned around, grinning. "How come _you_ are so well familiar with this place?"

The tall guy, still in the same shell-shocked posture she left him in, answered. "I know Whirlpool like I know the curves of my soul."

Temari scoffed, propping her hand to knock on the door.

If only he wasn't such a lair; and a poetic one at that.

* * *

A whole jar of cookies to **Zakudeath** for being the _only_ one to guess and guess right who _that_ person was. Here *hands cookie jar*.

I'm convinced at my success at keeping Shino in character while still fiddling with it. He's so much fun to work with. Tell me what you thought anyway.

I admit writing this chapter was much harder than I initially thought it would be, mainly because I've never worked with Temari before.

The song Shino sings is an Arabic song by Souad Massi, a Moroccan singer and song writer. The song and singer are both fantastic, listen if you're interested in a different kind of music.

Since I'll be returning to my studies in less than a week, I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out. Hopefully I'll be able to organize myself -and my life- more now that summer is over. However, summer in this story has just begun, so look forward to this. Till next one~


	5. Powder of Antimony

_**Of Cigarettes and Grape Vines**_

~chapter five~

**Powder of Antimony**

* * *

"Hello, Gaara."

Kakashi. Gaara wished that man didn't exist sometimes. He moved around the house like a ghost, unnoticed. He would sometimes show behind him, say a joke and stroll away, chuckling to himself. He would rival Gaara himself when it came to staying awake all night, and he would offer to make meals that would turn absolutely, most horribly inedible.

He was standing in front of the sink's mirror, shaving the unseen hairs on his chin, and smiling lopsidedly. Clad in his gray pajamas and equally gray shirt, silver hair tousled, he did not seem older than nineteen. Gaara knew he was much older.

Seeing the bathroom was occupied for now, Gaara sauntered out of the man's sight, but a voice caught him in place. "Wait, Gaara. Have you slept well?"

It took him exactly five days –the amount of days they'd spend here as of yet- to notice how cunning and artfully misguiding Kakashi could be. The man knew Gaara hadn't slept all night, but still asked about it, as if anticipating some kind of specific answer.

Gaara did not deign him it.

"It was fine, but only if you'd finish sooner. I need the bathroom."

"Oh of course, I've just finished." Kakashi appeared out of the bathroom's door, drying his face with a towel. "You can go now."

Nodding, he passed by the taller guy and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him. "Do you want me to make breakfast for us?"

Gaara was fast to decline. "No, I'm not hungry. Thank you."

Kakashi didn't answer, but Gaara could no longer feel the other's presence just outside the door. Sighing, he turned the faucet on and splashed his face with water.

Yet another sleepless night.

The sun was barely making it up the horizon when he glanced out of the window to the view outside, and happened to see his own sister, in what seemed a rather compromising position with a guy he did not know.

Gaara raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure of what to make of it. Regardless, he crossed the long hallway fast enough to let her in before she could knock and wake everyone up.

He flung the door open, and stared at Temari's fist, preparing to knock. She grinned, entering the house casually to embrace him half-heartedly. "Are they giving you money to open their door?"

"Are they giving you money to knock on peoples' doors so early in the morning?"

She shrugged. "I just happened to arrive late."

Gaara noted her choice of clothes and smirked, but made no comment. Better leave it until she forgets about it, as he was sure she thought of killing him upon arriving here.

But he also noticed the thick dust covering her boots and the brownish stains on her skirt; and didn't allude to the fact he saw her with a stranger, bidding him farewell rather intimately. Temari probably knew he did, anyway.  
She was a calculating person, and knowing he'd seen her was the obvious answer for his haste greeting.

Gaara led her to the kitchen in silence, hoping that no one would show up all of a sudden. "I almost thought you weren't coming." he told her.

"I did consider it, but eventually decided to come." she shook her head wearily. "It's been such a hectic week; I needed a break."

He stood at the kitchen's entrance, amused by the way Temari's eyes widened, following the patterns on the high ceiling and the old kiln at the forefront. "It's very artistic, isn't it?"

His sister nodded. "I shouldn't be surprised, though; the house is fairly big."

"And just as empty as ours." he remarked.

Temari gave him a sideway glance. "Anyway," she started, making her way inside and heading to the table, tumbling down on a chair and throwing her bag to the wooden floor. "My week was so messy I could barely remember my name at the end of it."

Following suit, he sat across from her. "What happened?"

Temari gave a trying sigh, visibly haggard. "I made the mistake of voicing my opinion at campus, about the teaching methods and all that shit, and some guys thought it would be funny to pick on me until I kicked their sorry asses." she said, a faint smirk on her face. "But then they felt the need to sneak into my room and mess my stuff, and now I think they're behind the reason my bike got stolen."

Gaara widened his eyes. "Your bike got stolen?"

Nodding, she continued. "But that's not the worse, as bad as it might've sounded." Her face became sullen, and she fumbled with her pigtails. "He's not getting any better, Gaara.

Many people were not getting any better, but he assumed the one his sister was talking about was the Nara guy. He doesn't remember a time when they weren't good friends, uncivilized as they could be towards each other.

He also doesn't know much about the guy accept that due to an incomplete spinal cord injury, he could no longer walk, feel pain or touch; he was reasonably rendered miserable.

Gaara could not say he was directly affected by it, but what bothered him is that he did not know how to console a friend, let alone a friend with all hope lost.

He simply had no idea how Temari felt. It seemed painful, though, and so he reached to her with meaningless words. "It'll be alright."

"I'm not sure anymore… I just-" Temari waved her hand, dogging herself into a smiley face. "Forget it. But now really, tell me; how's it like here?"

Gaara shrugged. "Not bad. For your father, anyway."

Before she could answer him, Kakashi entered the kitchen and seemed to beam up at the sight of his sister. "Hello there."

The man waddled to the table, extending his hand to Temari, who took it cautiously. "You're the owner of the house?" she asked.

Kakashi shook his head. "I'm merely a guest. The owner of the house is much more delightful."

She raised her eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"Yes," the guy let go of her hand, and walked to the refrigerator. "Anything you might want to eat? I'll prepare anything you want."

When she glanced at him, Gaara was fast to wordlessly warn her about the terribleness that was the man's cooking. "Who cooks at morning?" she whispered to him.

"_He_ does."

Temari glimpsed over her shoulder, and then back at him. He nodded more assertively, and she retracted. "On a second thought, I think I'll eat later."

Kakashi chuckled. "Quick to warn her, ne, Gaara?" he paused, pulling few things out of the freezer. "I'm not as bad as he thinks; I insist on it, as a welcome."

Temari gave him a hapless look, pointing to her shrunken stomach, and he resorted to sitting there and sending the smirking man some of his displeased aura.

Gaara thought that, more or less, Kakashi had been serving him bad food on purpose, because when his sister put some of the man's food in her mouth, she hummed delightedly. "That's quite good."

Well, either that or Temari had a horrible taste in food, which he doubted.

The smile that was drawn on the guy's face irked him, and he hoped Temari noticed how bothersome it was.

"I'm Kakashi. Temari, was it?" she nodded, pleased he knew her name. "Would you like me to show you around? The residence is very nice at this hour."

Though she seemed reluctant, Temari agreed. "Sure, why not."

Gaara's irritation grew, not merely because of Kakashi, but because Temari was running away, and it annoyed him greatly; that's what she's been doing for the past couple of months, and it was unlike her.

He was not beyond admitting a man's charm, but Kakashi's vagueness and cryptic mannerisms erased any chance Gaara might've found the man appealing.

* * *

After the two gone out, he exited the kitchen and walked leisurely to his room, enjoying the temporary silence.  
Passing through the hallway, he noticed the slightly ajar door of Naruto's chamber, which was right next to his and Kankuro's. The door was squeaking noisily, and he wondered how the sound didn't wake up the blond.

Gaara's hand enclosed around the knob, making it to close the door, but something inside caught his eye and he halted, leaning awkwardly towards the door. Getting a glimpse around for extra security, he entered.

The boy's room was nothing special in and of itself. There were many plants, and the thought of Naruto's chocking fleeted his mind briefly before he reminded himself plants don't take up much oxygen, so Naruto isn't going to die any time soon.

There were only two pictures in the entire room, and none of them had Naruto in it. The one on the nightstand beside his bad was that of Uchiha Sasuke and Sakura Haruno, and the one next to it was of a huge old man standing between Kushina and who he assumed was Naruto's father.

Gaara thought the man was very handsome, but immediately shot the thought when he imagined Naruto as an older, more muscular version of his father, which instantly caused him to glance at the bed where the boy he haven't spoken to in five days was sprawled in his underwear, snoring.

Above Naruto's bed was what caught his eye; it was a large poster of a roaring orange fox with many tails. Its red eyes were menacing, and large jaw bared in an emotion so primal. Gaara would have actually been afraid if the fox wasn't so cartoonishly depicted.

His eyes roamed the rest of the room, and his fingers swept over random objects. It felt so silly- standing this close to Naruto's sleeping figure, checking the boy's room for the first time since they came here, and acting like a rookie thief too enamored with his new job would.

Gaara almost jumped when the sleeping boy produced a sound from the back of his throat, but he calmed down when he saw Naruto was still fast asleep. He envied how absorbed in the act Naruto seemed, for he doesn't remember the last time he woke up after a long night of sleep or actually needing a long night of sleep to begin with.

A strong urge filled him to get out of the room, but he was so used to watching other people sleep that his feet remained glued to the floorboards.

He felt so alienated in Naruto's room, as if he didn't belong here and shouldn't be here in the first place, especially when the owner of the room was in a complete state of unawareness.

And so for a moment, he wished Naruto would wake up, accuse of him of intruding, and kick him out. But Naruto didn't wake up, and so he remained standing there, his shadow casted over Naruto's stomach, unable to stop himself from imagining a scene where he's chocking the blond to death.

If five days could do that to him, then he wondered what would happen if Naruto's cold shoulder continued to be the main front when it came to Gaara. The thing that annoyed him the most, however, was that Naruto shied away from any conversation Gaara attempted to initiate; even simple talks.  
And whenever their bodies would accidently come in contact, he would flinch away in such a forced manner that Gaara found it rather childish Naruto would pretend to be so revolted of him.

Naruto made sure to act as normal as a boy with three guests he knew nothing about and who are staying at his home would. He remained relatively polite, but also distant; talkative, but reserved. He avoided prates as much as he could, and spent most of his time outside.

Though Kushina would berate Naruto for taking neither Gaara nor Kankuro with him, the blond would always find a way out of it, and murmur something about next time. Gaara noticed how at the end of the day, she would pull him to a corner and whisper things in his ear, which would make Naruto's face scrunch and then settle into an expression of displeasure.

When Gaara tried to talk with him, Naruto would busy himself of whatever laid around and scurry away; so he came to the conclusion that it was too much trouble to try and speak the boy down.

Waiting was the only option for now, because if his plan was going to work, then two people must work on it, and Naruto was his only candidate for the mission. And if he refused, Gaara had several ways to sway him.

* * *

Walking back to the kitchen, he found Temari and Kakashi sitting at the table, talking about something he couldn't hear. They both seemingly ignored his presence, but Gaara didn't mind, as the moment he approached them, Kushina entered the kitchen and the two stood up.

Gaara mused about the strong presence this woman had, even though she only walked in with a smile and the warmest of greetings.

Kushina skipped to his sister, and gathered her in a bone-crushing hug. He could sense Temari's plainly visible discomfort, but he couldn't blame her, really. The woman was whole about intimacy and physical contact, something Gaara's family was far from being used to.

"When did you come?" Kushina asked, excitement all over her face.

Temari scratched her cheek. "This morning, ah… you're Kushina, right?"

The red-haired woman grinned. "I am. I was looking forward to meeting ya; too many boys in the house."

"Tell me about it. You get used to it eventually."

Gaara watched the interaction with as much indifference as he could muster. He was glad the two seemed to hit it off really fast, but he couldn't help but the feel a twist in his pit, groping at his lungs, making it a little hard to breathe.

As Kushina moved like wind in the kitchen, barking orders at everyone, berating Kakashi for his laziness and instructing Temari to where everything was, a voice sounded from behind him, and Gaara looked back to see his father sauntering into the room, already clad in his morning attire, pajamas nowhere to be seen.

"I see you've all woken up." Daichi paused, his eyes settling on the new arriver. "Temari, you finally came."

"Did you have any doubt about it, dad?" she asked, acid dropping from her tongue.

Their father passed by him, and took a place right beside Temari, staring her in the eye. "Of course I had no doubt." he shifted his attention to Kushina. "You know Kushina, Temari is the one I have most faith in." placing a hand around her shoulder, he continued. "She's going to inherit the company and all the shops once she graduates."

Kushina smiled widely. "Really? Do you want to, Temari?"

"She does. I'm proud of her for it." Daichi answered, and in that moment, Gaara's derivation proved right when Temari removed their father's arm from around her, all the while smiling, and placed it on the table like some kind of stuffed snake.

"Well, of course you'd be proud of what _you_ chose."

He cleared his throat. "It seems you had a long trip."

Temari chuckled mirthlessly. "So long, I think I'm going to sleep for several days." she gazed at Kushina. "Could you please lead me to some room?"

Kushina let go of the utensils in her hands and nodded. "Sure."

The two walked out of the kitchen, and Gaara followed, leaving Kakashi and his father alone. Kushina led them, an arm draped loosely around Temari's shoulders.

"Why are there so many rooms?" his sister asked, looking around the long hallway and the horizontal windows littering the wall.

"The house's people were many, but they all left." Kushina answered her, wistful. "Uzumakis were all over the place here! Kiddos, widowed grandparents, married couples-everyone had a room." she smiled ruefully at them. "Now it's just and me and Naruto."

"Why did they all leave?" Temari asked again, draping her bag over her shoulder.

Kushina halted in front of a door, clutching the silver doorknob. "Peoples gotta find what they want to. Some gone to the city, some even outta the country." she opened the door, smiling warmly. "That's your room, I readied it for ya. I hope it's okay."

Temari looked inside. "Wow… It's really nice..." she looked back at Kushina. "You didn't have to."

The woman waved her off. "Oh it's okay, I enjoyed doing it."

"Alright then," Temari released a breath. "I'll probably see you tomorrow." with that, she bowed slightly and then closed the door behind her.

Kushina let out a weary sigh. "What about we wake up those sleepy heads?"

"I'll wake up Kankuro."

* * *

From what he could grasp out of Kushina's angry words, Naruto had refused to wake up.

The woman was puttering across the kitchen, drawling about her son's laziness while preparing breakfast, likening him to a sloth and swearing to deny him food until he becomes a little more responsible.

Gaara however, wasn't paying attention to her words, as he was busy observing the white-haired man that stood at the counter, helping Kushina by slicing lettuce and carrots, adding them to the salad bowl he was preparing.

To him, Kakashi was quite the interesting figure. He kept silent during Kushina's complaints; his body slouched, handling the knives deftly, twirling one before cutting a cucumber in half, just like those chefs do in cooking shows.

Gaara had to acknowledge the rival his inner self took Kakashi for. There was another observer in the house, and as much he hated to admit it, Kakashi was much keener than him.

The man would obey orders, would only talk when talked to, and he was practically everywhere. Gaara had to wonder whether he did it spontaneously or just to stem a reaction from Gaara himself.

What he knew, however, was that Kakashi had an eye on him, and it was a merciless examiner, scrutinizing his every move and action; his words, and perhaps even the way he walks and dresses.

Just the other day, he told Gaara, while the two sneaked outside for a smoke, about the seashell and the fishnet. Kakashi said that the only way to live after being plucked from the fishnet was to accept the shelf's company, and Gaara told him that a seashell could make for a nice ashtray.

Kakashi laughed, and patted him on the shoulder, saying that if Gaara was to be an ashtray, he better like the cigarettes' burns.

It was too silly a philosophical concept but too intriguing to let go. All those had a deeper meaning, but Gaara had wondered if it was even worth contemplating, as he was certain the man was luring him into territories he was not familiar with, if only to feel more at ground since Gaara's comfort zone transported with him wherever he went.

A smoke with Kakashi was asking for trouble, and at the light of their last interaction, Gaara distanced himself from the man and consented on vetting him from afar. Not that Kakashi wasn't aware of Gaara's eyes on him, it's that he chose to give Gaara the space to inspect without making it too obvious.

What concerned Gaara most, however, was that he could not tell when Kakashi was observing _him_. Even for the slightest of moments, when the man wasn't in the room, he could _feel_ that one gray eye poring holes on his back, looking into his very soul.

But now, Kakashi was swaying his hips to the faint sound of music that came from the radio in the kitchen, eyes focused on his task.

If anything, Gaara pondered the possibility of the man being well aware of his episodes with Naruto, whether the school ones or that one in the vineyard.

He was like a taunting sprite, and Gaara wished he could not trust him, but for some reason, he did, and thus he found it impossible to like the man.

He didn't like what he couldn't comprehend.

His line of thoughts was cut once Naruto appeared at the entrance, hair mussed and shoulders slumped. Kushina berated him, and his father said something about staying up all night.

Gaara ignored them, and followed Naruto's steps until the boy took place across from him on the table. He avoided eye contact, as per the blonde's silent wish to continue denying his existence. Instead, he offered to help Kushina lay food on the table, and as always, she gladly accepted his help.

He glanced at his brother, and found him nodding wearily, trying to keep his eyes wide open as to not fall asleep again. Their father sat beside him, exchanging flirtatious glimpses with Kushina every ten seconds and attempting a conversation with a drowsy, absent-minded Naruto.

Gaara found it exhausting to follow all their moves and words, but something caught his attention when Kushina directed her words to her son. "… and it won't take too long; ya'll be back before dinner time."

The blond grunted. "I don't want to."

Kushina's hands instantly found their way to her hips; a move he became accustomed to, and admittedly, fond of. "Why? See I have work here, I can't go there. You'd usually do these kind of stuff, what's different now?"

Naruto's hands shot to his head, fingers clutching his skull. "I just woke up mom, leave me alone."

"Maybe if you'd agree,"

He noticed how the blond clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together. "Mom… Please… I have the worst headache."

The redheaded woman huffed, leaving her son be, pressing the subject again once all settled and food was ready to be eaten.

"Can't you find it in yourself to make me this favor, Naruto?" she asked, sitting next to Kankuro, who seemed to beam once his 'redheaded goddess' smiled at him before scowling at her son.

Naruto let out a mighty breath. "I'll do it tomorrow." he said, stuffing his face with eggs.

"You can't. Mr. Mifune's party is today, and you need to deliver the wine _today_." Kushina encountered, losing none of her resolve. "We don't wanna lose customers because you were too lazy to hop on the train." she paused to fill her plate with mashed potatoes. "You can take Gaara with ya."

The room fell into silence, and he was certain Naruto's rigid posture mirrored his own to the last bit.  
Only then his father saw the need to chime in. "That's a wonderful idea. You can take Kankuro with you, too."

"Oh no," Kankuro shook his head, always grossed out by the prospect of spending time with people younger than him. "Kushina promised to show me the blueprints for the house and the outside stores. Gaara wouldn't mind going though, right?"

Kushina shifted her attention to him, expectant. "No, I don't." he told them with a shrug, hopefully shutting all of them up.

"But I don't want to go!" Naruto exclaimed, his expression reflecting that of his mother, only much harsher.

It was the first time Gaara saw her show a truly unnerving face, and her words brook no argument. "You have no saying in this." After that, Naruto seemed to cower on himself, eating slowly and silently, while the others continued to chat away at nothing.

Feeling that familiar ting that came with being watched, he met Kakashi's eyes; the man smiled, and offered to fill his plate with salad.

Gaara didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.

* * *

The two stood at the platform, waiting for their train to arrive and take them to a nearby town called Woodlings, where the client resided.

Gaara liked the train station, in all its stone cottages and rusty lampposts. He took notice of the chain of green hills a little to the west, and at that moment, oddly enough, he sensed how much of a foreign he was.

He heard the other inhale strongly in the hot air of the noon, and deeply wished he'd speak.

Since the moment they'd finished eating their breakfast, Naruto skulked back to his room and only came out when it was time for them to leave. It didn't mean Naruto stopped being silent and retrieved his voice, no. He still refused to speak, merely exchanging few words with his mother before the two left.

Though he _did _open the main door for Gaara, and so he took it as a good sign.

At Naruto's feet was a large vintage box, made of fiberboard, packaging three large bottles of wine. A grape cluster was carved on the lid, and he suspected the box was the work of one Kushina Uzumaki.

Checking the clock on his phone, Gaara let out a sigh and pulled out a cigarette. It was still a little early until the train arrives at three.

Glancing around, there were other people on the platform, but he noticed Naruto and him were the only ones standing, feet hardly steady, as if ready to belt from unseen danger.

At some point, he offered Naruto a cigarette, but the other pretended not to hear. Gaara sighed again. "Naruto-"

"Don't."

He welled himself into patience, not pushing the matter further. It bothered him, because he had many things to tell Naruto; a chance like this, to be completely alone, should not be wasted on tolerating puerile behavior.

Once he heard the noise of chugging in the distance, Gaara shot his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, walking closer to the platform's edge. Naruto followed closely behind, carrying the wine box between his arms. Gaara offered a hand, and Naruto glared.

It was going to be a long trip.

* * *

Handing his ticket to the same mean-looking guy who greeted them half-heartedly at the train's entrance, Gaara watched Naruto as he approached; a small, batty kind of joy passing his heart when the blond settled next to him after making sure the wine box was secured in the luggage compartment.

A little ahead were three old ladies sitting abreast, chatting away with each other with big smiles on their faces. Gaara thought it was funny, and somehow pathetic, how this group of grandmas made his heart a little lighter.

The train began moving, that particular sensation shooting through him whenever something took off, and he inhaled, leaning on the padded bench seat. Sun stared down at him through the large view windows, and he wondered briefly how long it would take them to arrive.

He glanced at Naruto, and found him leaning his forehead against the glass, face bumping with the chugging of the train. His blue eyes were distant, and gravity seemed bent on pulling the sides of his mouths downward; it seemed as if his lips were melting.

"Why are you staring?"

Gaara's eyes met blue ones before turning to stare back at the view outside. "I'm merely waiting for you to speak."

Naruto's eyes caught his again, and Gaara could clearly see the now visible patterns of the blonde's irises, pooling light inside them, pupils contracted. It was hard to look away.

"What do you want me to say?" Naruto pulled him out of his thought process, pinpointing him with a hard stare. "What do you want to speak of?"

Gaara cleared his throat. "So you want to talk now?"

Naruto scoffed, going back to gloating out of the window. "I still don't feel like even seeing your face."

"But I'm right here and you must face it, whether you like it or not." he reminded him, adjusting his light jacket over his shoulders and making no further attempt to go on.

Naruto is the only one to talk himself out of this state, and Gaara figured he'll wait for it.

Silence was too heavy that when Naruto finally spoke, Gaara suppressed a loud whimper. "Why Gaara?" Naruto's weak voice dripped with misery. "Why did you act like knowing each other was wrong? As if meeting before was a conspiracy against the world." he looked at him, eyes filled with unshed tears. "My life already sucked and you had to make it worse by lying. Are you so embarrassed and ashamed of knowing me? Tell me."

Gaara heaved a sigh, finding himself back on the spot he hoped they wouldn't stand in again. "Naruto, there's little I know about why I lied," he admitted, secretly hoping those tears wouldn't fall. "But I'm not ashamed or embarrassed of knowing you."

He stopped talking, allowing Naruto to wipe away his tears. "Contrary to what you're saying, knowing you was…" he took a deep breath. "It was the most right thing in my life for a while."

The blond peered at him, uncertain and confused, trying to find truth in his words. Gaara continued, smirking. "As for the conspiracy, the world is fair on being afraid; you and me, ganging up against it and all."

Naruto showed no signs of amusement, instead breaking their eye contact to stare out of the window again. It took the blond several other attempts to utter the words stuck in his throat. "At school, at the beginning... I thought what we were doing was wrong and stupid and shameful." he said, resting his head back on the glass. "For some reason I feared people would find out and-"

"And what?" Gaara cut him "Think we're fucking?"

"It's just that you..." Naruto straightened his back, arms ready to animate his words as usual. "You _absorbed_ me. I didn't care about anything else but to go to the Place and smoke with you; talk with you; _be_ with you." the boy pointed at him, eyes furious. "Now that you made everyone think we've never met before, I feel like I can't do these things anymore. I don't feel like our friendship is as special as it used to be!"

"Friendship?" Gaara scoffed. Apparently they weren't on the same wave here. "Stop with this infantile crap." he told him, feeling scathed by Naruto's one-dimensional view on the situation. "If it's indeed friendship, you wouldn't have cared, but you did; you can't accept me because you thought I was this blank, white board onto which you paint the person _you_ wanted me to _be_ on. You only liked me because you didn't know who I _truly_ am; you now know I'm not the fantasy you wished I'd be. You're dumb."

He finished, peeved, and then enjoyed Naruto's face as it contorted in many emotions; from anger to fluster to finally settling on chagrin. He hoped this confounded, immature boy would see the bigger picture.

"It's not about our friendship, if such thing exists anyway," Gaara felt compelled to add. "It's about keeping our lives out of-"

"—our lives." Naruto concluded for him. "You don't want your family meshed with mine. I understand. I don't want it, too." blue eyes held him in place once again. "I can see where you're getting at, and I understand. Just… just let's not talk about it."

Gaara complied, and they spent the rest of their journey in silence, sun rays reflecting on the glass, warming everything but their hearts. He shuddered, and forced himself out of yet another question about the validity of his choices.

* * *

Woodlings was one of those places that seemed lost between having more buildings and preserving their greeneries.

Everything was stitched together like a piece of white cloth over a painting. The houses started small and simple, but as the more inland they walked, the fancier they became, the bigger and wider the shops spread, the more cars Gaara saw since they came here.

The streets were evenly tarred and clean, white houses with blue windows lined the elegantly carved sidewalks, thin trees at every corner and he could see a restaurant a little far to the left, occupying a busy corner where people went around doing their business.

Gaara had to admit it was much more colorful than Whirlpool and much more modern. While the former was brown and green, here it was white and blue. All the houses here, which Naruto bothered to inform him was in the wealthier parts of Woodlings, were white, with several stories and front gardens and garages for cars he knew Kankuro would drool if his eyes ever laid on them.

Naruto probably noticed his wonderment when inspecting the life which seemed so idealistic and unreal, and he scoffed. "You should see Denver," he said, guiding Gaara towards a narrow, stone path out of a busy market. "All the rich shit live there. The houses are made of marble and the only green thing you'll see is probably the park."

They entered an alley, overshadowed by tree branches and paved with red and black stones. "Where are we going?" he asked, moving aside a dangling crease.

"We're just getting out of the town's center; this is a short way to reach the neighborhood." Naruto answered, not bothering to glance at him.

"So you've come here before?"

"It's unlike you to ask stupid questions." the blond retorted. "Of course I've been here before, that's my father's hometown."

Although getting tired of Naruto's attitude, Gaara pressed his lips together and followed, skipping over black stones and only walking on the red ones, covertly delighted by the fact that Naruto was doing the exact same thing.

The sounds their footsteps caused on the flat, seamed ground lulled him until he could no longer hear the other's taut steps. Gaara raised his head, and found they were standing at the alley's end, or entrance.

The so-called _neighborhood_ was in fact a relatively large mansion, with a sizable front garden, lawed mown and all. Green bushes were trimmed and made into shapes, ranging from animals to armored men to naked women. Red roses burnt into the scenery, and a cobblestone road that led to the front door streamed before them.  
While artistic, Gaara found it to be absolutely unnecessary; it strongly reminded him of their house back in the city, and he managed not to cringe.

Naruto proceeded to walk on the designed road, arching when it did and slowing when it narrowed. Gaara followed, not walking on the grass because it was too beautiful to step on.

After that, they ascended a staircase, and stood before a double door; oak, Gaara assumed. It was designed to look ancient, but to reflect, at the same time, the affluence of the residents behind it.

Naruto knocked, and they both took a step back. After a moment, a tall, lanky man stood at the doorstep, clad in a black suit and sporting a silly mustache. He regarded them suspiciously, until Naruto showcased the wine box.

"I'm here to deliver wine for Mr. Mifune."

The man -who by now Gaara assumed was a new servant- eyed the box then turned back to Naruto. "Kushina Uzumaki's son, I presume?" a nod. "And the gentleman?"

"A family friend,"

The servant nodded, and held the door open for them. "I see. Please come inside."

The red walls of the reception room were littered with paintings of armored men, wielding spears and swords. Under a large portrait of two samurais facing off, hung an unsheathed katana, reflecting the lights of the massive chandelier up on the ceiling.

Naruto whispered in his ear. "The man is crazy about samurai. It's like he came from another era."

The servant turned around, catching weft of their muttering. "Mr. Mifune is currently up on his room. Would you like to wait here until he's ready?" he pointed to an open salon to their left. "Let me take care of this."

He extended his arms towards Naruto, gesturing for him to hand the wine box. Naruto did, and they were led to the brown set of sofas that man pointed to.

"You will be attended to in moments."

Both murmured a thank you, and the servant left them, sauntering up a staircase and disappearing from view. Naruto let out a breath and looked at him. "Don't be fooled by all this; Mr. Mifune is a very nice man."

"They all seem like this." he recalled his father's mannerisms and snorted. "Under all these lavish appearances is nothing but shallow men."

It seemed Naruto got his point across, but he just stared into a wall. "He helped my mother during a lot of hard times. I really think he's a good person."

"You perceive people as 'good' only if they're convenient to you."

Naruto smiled lopsidedly. "I guess it's true. But you know what?" he gazed at him from the corner of his eye. "I don't care anymore. I just want to see people for what they show to me; it's much less exhausting than peeling layers."

"And let yourself be fooled over and over again by their facades?" Gaara sneered. "What about a chocolate river and ice cream hills on the side?"

Naruto chuckled. "I wouldn't mind that at all. In fact, I-"

"Hello,"

The two glanced to where the voice came from, and watched as a young woman, wearing a loose lime-green kimono approached them; her long, straight black hair fell down to her bare shoulders, covering where the dress slipped.

She placed a tray on the short-legged table in the middle, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "How do you like your tea, boys?"

Naruto coughed nervously and waved his hands. "It's okay, we don't want to drin-"

"I suppose you like it sweet then." she glanced at Gaara. "And you like it sugarless?"

Gaara smiled. "I like it with some sugar, actually."

"How did you know I like it sweet?" Naruto asked, scratching his cheek sheepishly.

The woman smiled mystically, pouring tea into three small cups. "You could say it's my job to guess what people like." she winked at Naruto. "I get paid for it."

Naruto laughed. "That must be awesome."

She sighed. "It takes training, and a lot of patience."

Gaara straightened up when she handed him the steaming cup. "Did I put enough sugar?" the woman asked, and he nodded, the hot liquid burning his throat in a good way.

She took place across from them, holding her tea cup in both hands. "I'm Sayuri, and you?"

Naruto laid down the cup clumsily. "I'm Naruto, and he's Gaara… a family friend."

Gaara snickered inwardly; the blond was so insistent on categorizing him, and he was glad when Sayuri picked up on it.

"A family friend?" she chuckled softly. "Pardon me, but I thought _he_ was Naruto and _you_ were the family friend."

She was tricking him. Of course she knew he was Kushina's son, the servant must've told her. He didn't comment, though, and allowed himself more comfort on the coach.

"I've seen Ms. Kushina, and I linked the red hair with her; it's my mistake. Pardon me, again."

Naruto waved his hands apologetically. "No, no, it's okay. I wouldn't say they look anything alike though."

Sayuri looked at him, as if trying to see if Naruto's statement was correct. "I'd have to admit the hair is a big giveaway, but I think you're right; they don't look alike."

Naruto smirked triumphantly, and took a sip from his cup.

The conversation continued rather normally, Sayuri telling them about her fiancé and their marriage plans; they lived in the city, and she was in a visit to her uncle, which was the samurai-obsessed man.

"You're his _niece_?" Naruto shrieked and Sayuri giggled before abruptly standing up.

"Uncle,"

An old man walked to them, his long grey hair swaying behind him. "Sayuri, I see you've welcomed our guests."

He and Naruto followed suit, jolting on their feet, and shaking the man's hand. His was wrinkled, but his eyes and posture reflected the soul of a youth at heart.

"Naruto, you're quite grown." the man mused, laughing heartily at the blonde's awkward thanks. "I can't decide who you resemble more now; your mother or your father."

Naruto stopped rubbing his neck, previous smiles gone. He bowed. "Thank you, I like to think I look like no one else."

Mifune nodded sagely, humming and fiddling with his long beard before widening his eyes as if he recalled something important. "Oh, please forgive me, keeping you standing like this. Feel free to act as if it's your own home."

Naruto shook his head. "I think we should leave, we were just here to deliver the wine."

"I called your mother once Ichigo told me you're here." the man headed to the coach across from them, sitting beside his niece. "I thanked her for the wine, and asked if she'd allow you to attend the party I'm having tonight."

Naruto gulped. "Many friends of mine would be attending." Mifune continued. "It would be a fabulous start for your summer."

It was good chance to spend more alone time with Naruto and inform him of his plans, but the blond was visibly hesitant, and Gaara wondered if it would be appropriate to accept on the other's behalf.

"I don't see why." Naruto finally said, smiling forcibly. "But I think it's a little inappropriate since we're not dressed properly for the evening."

Mifune waved his hand dismissively. "You needn't worry about this, dear. I'll inform my servants to help you find something suitable in our wardrobe."

Gaara wondered if this man had everything readily prepared for them, but he dropped pondering once Sayuri helped them upstairs, and led them to an unoccupied room. "I hope you like it." she said, opening the room's door for them, bowing, and then leaving, but not before giving him one of her vague smiles.

They entered, and Naruto gasped audibly. "I'm sure this is a hotel and not a house."

Gaara would agree if his stomach didn't churn uncomfortably at the sight of the king-sized bed that occupied the room's center.

Naruto, on the other hand, jumped on said bed and let out a delighted squeal. "This bed is amazing!"

He ignored him, closing the door and walking to the large window at the front. He opened the shutters, a gust of the evening wind rushing into the room. The window overlooked the front yard below, the small gardens around it and the path he crossed with Naruto.  
The sun appeared in the distance, sinking down behind the hills that could be seen even in Whirlpool.

Gaara leaned forward, inhaling deeply and relishing in the cold breeze on his face. The weather was becoming colder, and he closed his eyes, seeing the sunset behind his eyelids.

He felt Naruto's presence beside him, but he didn't bother to open his eyes. Naruto's arm brushed his and Gaara's heart bounced unexpectedly. "You know what's so stupid, Gaara?" Naruto began. "It's that we both assumed the other didn't have a life beyond us. We thought that it was just you and me, so when the reality of our lives actually _existing_ in the same universe as us meeting, it just... crumbled down."

Gaara opened his eyes, and stared down at Naruto who arched his back, resting his forearms on the windowpane. Those blue eyes were distant again, staring at the orchestra of colors in the sky. "Our Utopia just kinda fell down the drain…"

They sighed simultaneously, and Naruto glanced at him. "What do you want to do?"

He shrugged. "Your mother is looking for something serious with my father."

Naruto snorted. "How would _you_ know?"

"Nobody brings their children to meet someone unless it's serious." He answered just as vehemently. "However, that doesn't matter, because your mother is not even in love with him. Not yet anyway."

Naruto squinted at him. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Yes."

The blond stood up, hands clutching the window's edge. "We can't do that Gaara," he hissed. "We can't break them."

"We can before it becomes much more than compensating for an empty life." he sighed, leaning against the wall. "Give them three months and they'll probably get married. What then? You want to be my brother? _Mesh_ your family with mine?"

"I-"

"What she's going through with my father is a phase to get rid of the entire load from a failed marriage." he continued, unwavering. "She's in haste, and frankly, I can't deduce what my father is going to do next. He seems to like her, but those are not his usual ways. It's to protect your family and your mother, Naruto."

The boy narrowed his eyes. "So it's not about us?"

At that moment, a servant knocked the door and entered, asking them to join him in another room. "Like you just said; our Utopia no longer exists." Gaara sauntered to the man, and began following him out of the room.

He turned around to glance at his temporary roommate. "And Naruto," the blond looked at him. "There's no 'us'. Not after this."

* * *

Gaara watched as Naruto stared at himself in the mirror. Or what was left of him anyway.

"What the fuck…"

He snickered. "You don't look bad."

Naruto looked at him in the mirror, buttoning the black waistcoat he was wearing. "I've never wore a suit before."

He shrugged, walking to the large, open wardrobe and searching in the clothes for a jacket Naruto's size. "It's like wearing anything else, just a little… sealed."

"Can't I just wear a shirt and trousers and get done with all this?"

Gaara craned his neck, examining a black jacket that could be fitting. "It's already quite cold; you'll probably need the jacket anyway."

Naruto walked to him, unable to stop touching and feeling the garments he was wearing. "What if an old guy touched himself wearing this suit?"

Gaara pinned the jacket to Naruto's shoulders, checking its width. "Then maybe you'll get to touch yourself as well."

He could see Naruto was trying hard not to show an amused expression. "Does it fit?"

"I think so. Try it."

Naruto put the jacket on, and Gaara told him to step back a little.  
The double-breasted vest clung handsomely to his torso, and the trousers were not too loose, but tight enough to shape his legs; the jacket showcased the blonde's broad shoulders, and the collared white shirt brought out the blue of his eyes.

"Turn around." he commanded, and Naruto complied with a dubious look on his face.

That annoying part of him giggled evilly, and Gaara tried to ignore it. He found Naruto's behind to be quite the sight, and his inner self was taunting him about this small revelation. He sighed when Naruto groaned impatiently. "You look just fine."

The blond pivoted on his heal, the neat black leather shoes replacing the dusted brown combat boots he was wearing when they arrived here, and smiled.

Gaara hummed thoughtfully. "I think you should replace the vest with one you can unbutton." He said, working on the image of Naruto with an unfastened waistcoat, and finding it to be _very_ appealing. He wasn't about to admit that though. "It's not appropriate to leave a double-breasted vest open, not to mention it will look just ugly."

Naruto chuckled. "Sabaku Gaara, asshole by day, fashionista by night."

He shrugged half-heartedly, making to slip in the white shoes he chose. "I just know what goes and what not. I've been to such parties since I learned how to walk."

"Hey Gaara," Naruto grinned at him when he turned around. "You don't look bad yourself."

Gaara snorted. "Just change the vest; the party's about to begin."

* * *

They followed the servant called Ichigo down to another area of the house, the sound of music and chattering rising the nearer they got.

It was weird, 'cause while the town gave him a jazzy feel, this house was just on the wrong side of it all. Large fans decorated the walls, samurai weapons like a tanto and a wakizashi were strewn about the house, and there was even a red, shinning samurai armor at one corner.

Finally after probably crossing the whole house, the skinny man stood before a closed entrance, and the sounds hit them full blast once he pushed the door open. It was a grand ballroom, with hardwood floors and a platform at the forefront, where a band was playing.

Some were dancing, but most people were either sitting on the scattered tables or standing at the sides, holding glasses and sneaking small samples of food in their mouths. The last time he'd seen that many people was in the party before coming here.

Gaara hoped they weren't the same as his father's troops, though.

Beside him, Naruto was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, blue eyes darting frantically around the hall. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, and straightened his jacket with the other, all the while biting his lower lip.

Gaara thanked the servant and entered the room, nodding for an anxious Naruto to follow. A good thing nobody noticed their entrance, and he took the opportunity to pull his companion to the side.

"Why are you so embarrassed about who you are?" he asked, looking the other pointedly.

"I'm not!" Naruto defended, surveying the room once again before glancing back at him. "It's just-these fancy people out there... it's all so intimidating. I don't know how to act in such environments. What if I embarrass myself?"

"People will laugh a little and then they'll forget about you." he told him. "Look around, nobody's giving us the least bit of attention. Nobody's looking at you and expecting you to fail."

Naruto stared in woeful uncertainty, fiddling with the shirt's collar. "Do you remember what I told you, back at the stadium?" Gaara asked, and after a moment, the other nodded. "It's good to be you. Walk in there like you would between friends, and people will think you've been conceived in a party."

He adjusted Naruto's wrinkly collar, and mussed the unmanageable bush of blonde hair. Naruto smiled weakly, but his eyes lit up.

When Gaara turned his attention off Naruto, he noticed Mifune few tables away, conversing gleefully with a group of people; and then Sayuri at the far end of the room, waving at them. He walked alongside the other, watching with amusement as Naruto nodded and smiled brightly at anyone and everyone who glanced their way.

"You told me to act like I'm between friends." The blond whispered upon seeing Gaara's smile, and he shook his head as they neared to the table, entertained by Naruto's ability to be completely irreverent.

Once they arrived, Sayuri smiled happily, perking at their sight. The young woman looked peculiarly stunning. Donning a flower-patterned lilac dress that slid smoothly off her shoulders, her black hair pinned up in a messy bun, he thought she looked like a queen.

The two took a seat across from her, and she began introducing her group of friends who all perched with them around the table. Gaara found them to be a rather pleasant mix of people, and he accepted the wine glass handed to him by one of them.

"You two look very nice." Sayuri said, smiling behind her glass. "Did the servants choose them for you?"

"No, we just kinda picked them up ourselves." Naruto answered, his jaws taut, ready to flash a smile any given moment.

"Sayuri told me you two just finished high school." the seemingly youngest of the group chimed in. "What do you want to study?"

Gaara could hear the red alarm going off inside Naruto, and he wished the woman hadn't asked. Naruto was sinking deeper in his chair, trying to appear less visible but failing.

"I'm going to study communication." Gaara answered her, putting on a smile. Her amused and curious expression was asking him another question, and he answered that as well. "I want to figure why mass media has such big effect on people. Psychologically speaking. Plus, it'd be a good job for a con-man."

All faces on the table stared at him with puzzled expression, until getting the joke and bursting out in laughter. "That was a good one." the guy called Zaji patted his shoulder, recovering in the aftermath of his laughter.

Gaara wanted to laugh at the _real _joke, which was the fact that there was no joke at all. He really _did_ intend to become a con-man, and he already learned few tricks. But the thing is, he wanted to draw their attention from Naruto until he regains some of his confidence. Sadly, it didn't work, as they were all needling the boy with their eyes.

"I'm…" Naruto trailed off, staring at his lap. "I didn't get to finish school, 'cause, you see, I got kicked out." He looked at them, smiling wistfully. "I made this huge scene with one of my friends and well… I was the unlucky one."

The blond chuckled with no mirth, gulping his wine glass in one go. At their sympathetic faces, he retracted. "Oh no, I have things to do! I'm going to work in the winery, and do a lot of other things."

They all nodded understandingly, but Gaara doubted they actually comprehended any of the boy's feelings. In few minutes, Naruto and his sad face are going to be erased from their minds.

One girl, Maki, clapped excitedly. "Then we'll trust you to supply us with good wine!"

Naruto raised his glass somberly. "You bet."

Zaji snickered. "To Naruto's winery then, and to all the good wine we're going to drink." Everybody raised their glasses, and his world became a mess of laughter and tattles once they got to the actual party.

Naruto, regaining some of his spirit, asked Sayuri for a dance, and she gleefully accepted, tucking a nonexistent lock of hair behind her ear. Maki urged the lazy guy called Omoi into following the two onto the dance floor until he reluctantly agreed, Zaji giving him a half teasing, half sympathetic nod before getting up himself.

"I think I'll head to my buddy Toroi; poor man had been drinking alone." The brown-haired guy strode groggily to one corner where a man with ridiculous sideburns sprawled his torso on a table littered with empty glasses.

Gaara found himself alone on the table with just one person left. Her brown eyes were absent, expression lost between expectant and bored. She rested a cheek on her palm and kept glancing at the ballroom's entrance every few seconds.

"Pakura, was it?"

She gave him a sideway glance before turning her attention back to the entrance. "The con-man. How sad nobody asked you to dance."

"Nobody asked you either."

The woman smirked, raising her half empty glass. "Let's be sad together, then."

He mimicked the gesture, and they both took a sip at the same time. "Tell me, con-man. Do you believe that people are constantly being brainwashed into becoming things they're not?"

Gaara liked where this was going. "I do. Everything is too sugarcoated yet bitter, so much that you end up unable to tell what it's all supposed to really taste like."

"Like the artificial banana flavor?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess so."

They launched into silence again, clinging to it despite their likeness. Pakura seemed to be content on smiling at him every now and then, and he enjoyed how the pianist stitched the silence with his music.

But of course, it was him, so nothing actually lasted. A man with an atrocity for a hair stood at the table, and asked Pakura for a dance. She faked a smile, and declined politely. The man insisted, and they kept going back and forth until she threatened to kick him out herself.

The man left, but not before throwing her a nasty glare, which she returned tenfold. When he was out of earshot, Pakura sighed. "That was my used-to-be." she told him, taking a large swallow from her drink. "He's one of those exes that seem to have gotten over you but for some reason still insist on slipping inside your life, as if they're still figuring out what you owe them, but never finding out."

She suddenly burst into laughter, not giving him a chance to ponder her words. "You know what? I actually think he's looking for a threesome."

Pakura stood up, and it was then he noticed how tall she was. "My date has arrived. Excuse me, con-man."

The woman sauntered elegantly to a short-haired lady who just walked inside, and swept her into a deep kiss amidst the stares of many people. Gaara snorted, drank what was left of his glass, and asked for the bathroom's directions.

* * *

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, noting the rosy cheeks and the pleased disposition in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he splashed his face with water and unbuttoned the black vest, feeling a little lighter.

Hearing footsteps approaching, he made it to go out, only to be met with Naruto face to face.

"Hey…"

Gaara stepped back. "Hello, I see you're enjoying yourself."

Naruto smiled. "Yeah, Sayuri is such a good dancer; she taught me few moves." he demonstrated his words with a sway of the hip, and Gaara snickered. "I was wondering if you'd come out for a smoke."

Gaara felt inside his jacket and trousers' pockets for his pack, but couldn't find it. "I… I think I left my pack up at-"

Naruto flashed said pack in his face with a grin. "I knew we'll need it."

* * *

You would only know how much in need for a smoke you are when you actually take the first inhale of precious, precious nicotine. At least that's what Gaara thought.

The two of them stood outside on a large balcony, overlooking the town, in all its glorious lights and white houses. The small dots of gleam illuminated the night like a thousand candles in a dark room, and the wind was fiddling around them, freezing their ears red.

"What a lovely night…" Naruto mused, leaning against the marble rail.

"You're saying it as if you haven't seen nights like these before."

Naruto shook his head. "No… I mean the party, the music and dancing and people-everything is so lovely…"

Gaara leaned the opposite way, resting his forearms on the rail. "Then savor it. Who knows when's the next time you're going to be in a place like this."

"It's not just the place. My mom says a party is only as good as the host." the blond looked at him. "We've had amazing parties back at the house in Whirlpool. Y'know, before my parents ruined everything…"

He sighed, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Whatever though, let's talk about you. You really _do_ want to become a con-man."

Gaara widened his eyes. "How did you know?"

Naruto smiled at the sky. "You had the face when you said it. The same face you had when we painted the school; that face says I'm gonna wreck shit."

Gaara laughed, and Naruto laughed as well. He'd never noticed such a thing, but if he thought hard enough, he can link the vandalism of school property to his choice of side-career.

"Hey Gaara," Naruto stumped down his cigarette. "What do you think Sayuri was getting at?" he asked. "She knew I was Naruto, but what was the point in purposefully mistaking us?"

So it seemed the boy had figured it out just like him. "She probably wanted to see why you're so demented on calling me a family friend when it's apparent I'm not."

"Yeah yeah, but why?"

Gaara snickered. "I thought you weren't going to peel anymore layers."

Naruto sighed wearily. "I'm not sure about that... I guess it became a second nature- to keep people in shadows..."

"It's best to keep people in shadows sometimes." He said, picking both his and Naruto's cigarettes' stubs and throwing them in a nearby pot. "But other times-"

"Gaara," he turned around, and Naruto was staring at him with such intensity. "I don't think our Utopia is gone." the blond said, smiling. "I think here, right now, we're in it. It doesn't matter whether our parents exist within its boundaries or not; what matters is that we're here, and it's ours."

"Then you don't care?" Gaara asked, making it to light another cigarette. "You don't care that your mother might make a stupid decision?"

Naruto shook his head. "No, it doesn't matter! Even then, you and me, we'll still be friends."

He perched on the rail. "What makes you think I'm your friend, Naruto?"

"Stop trying to deny it!" the blond shouted, paying the party inside no heed. "I saw it, you do, too. And if we're not good friends, then we'll become so. Just… just let us fix your lie."

Gaara snorted. "Lies can't be fixed, Naruto; you're just trying to make yourself feel better." he let out a long stream of smoke. "But what still baffles me though is that you're unable to accept who I am. Stuck at a simple lie that basically means nothing, why?"

"Maybe if I knew why you lied then I'll know why I'm stuck at it." Naruto replied dourly, staring down at his feet.

Finding the closest thing to him, Gaara threw the empty cigarette pack at his dogged companion. It collided with Naruto's head and fell down to the ground, something which the latter found extremely funny, bursting out in resounding laughter.

He looked at Gaara, grinning from ear to ear. "You know, I think I'm stuck because if I knew why you lied, then I'll know what I mean to you. And as long as I don't know that, I'm going to keep wondering, because you're so fucking vague about nearly everything, it worries me that you might not think the same about me, and that's why I want to know, because I'm an insecure asshole!"

It took him few moments to process Naruto's words, and come to the conclusion that between all those lines, the other was searching for a specific answer. "You want to know if I think of you in a similar way."

Naruto nodded, eager to hear his reply.

Gaara sighed, all the meat-headedness getting to him. "Why does my friendship matter?"

"Because _you_ matter!" Naruto laughed again, as if Gaara couldn't see what was so obvious. "Because you're worth it, and I want you to know that."

The blond walked leisurely to the rail, and hopped on it next to him. "Back at the school, when we didn't hug, you said you can still walk away, because that's exactly what we didn't do." He turned to Gaara, and enveloped him in an unexpected, sudden, tight embrace.

Gaara couldn't move; he was breathing in the scent of Naruto's hair, coarse locks brushing the side of his face. Naruto was inhumanly warm. "If you don't hug me back, then I'll forget about all this and I'll never bother you again." the boy whispered in Gaara's ear, his hot breath fanning Gaara's cold skin and sending his stomach into queued knots. "But if you _do_ hug me back, then you can't walk away. That was your own rule."

Recalling Naruto's hearty laughter behind the school, his smile when he picked their suits, his stupid, dirty jeans overalls and especially that time they held hands, Gaara smiled.

Is he capitulating? Maybe.

Is he going to regret it? Probably. But in that moment, he allowed himself to think with his heart, and wrapped his arms around Naruto's torso, under the black jacket.

He still needed to fish out many answers, but for now, something clicked, and it felt good and right as the other's arms encircled him warmly. Here, this close to the blond, he muttered in his ear. "Thank you, Naruto."

Naruto chuckled breathlessly. "Maybe… maybe I should unbutton my vest."

Gaara pulled away, and helped unfasten the other's waistcoat in silence while the sound of music drifted sweetly to them from inside. Under his hands, he could feel the rabid beating of Naruto's heart, and he found solace in it.

It was at that moment Gaara actually understood what Kakashi had meant. It was only then that he understood the subtlety under the man's cryptic words.

He could already feel the burns, but he smirked anyway.

"Let's wreck some shit."

* * *

Notes:

I hope you all enjoyed this long-assed chapter, despite how shitty and flow-lacking it is. It took so fucking long to put my ass down and write. I'm fucking lazy. And yes, hooray for classy unfastened vests.

First, I feel the Shino/Temari thing didn't sit well with you folks? The thing is that I believe typical fanon pairings to be ridiculously boring and tired. I love to explore other pairings as well. Though the two are not going to become a couple, but I know where I'm going with them.

I enjoyed writing the second part more than the first one, as I'm still trying to capture the dynamics of the two families, and writing an OC was so much fun. I really searched for female characters that could fill the role of Mifune's niece, but found none. I also didn't want to bring a character from the heap and link her to him. So yeah.

The last part was rewritten like three times, each times it ends differently. However, I liked this one most, because it was less dramatic than the rest. Also, I really love writing Kakashi.

The outline for the next two chapters is ready, so I have something to work on instead of wondering what to fill a blank page with! And remember, reviews are like your cellphone's light during a blackout. Plus, if you're not in a hurry, tell me what you thought of this week's Naruto chapter. Horrible, no?

Next chapter will have corn, pseudo-dates, bookstores, and Kankuro is going to be left behind, but it won't be so bad. Till next one~


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